


his beauty fades at twilight

by evr



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evr/pseuds/evr
Summary: Re-post.Sorey finds Mikleo again after a thousand years have passed and tries to help him cope with his past as they both struggle toward an uncertain future.(originally posted 2016-03-26)





	1. Still Waters

**Author's Note:**

> I still write and I've been doing a lot better lately, so I'm putting this one back up. Maybe I should repost my other stuff? idk.
> 
> Warnings for icky things.

Waking had been pain. Waking had been quiet. It seemed like he'd only just closed his eyes and reopened them. No dreams, nothing to mark the time. He wondered how long he had been asleep.

When he managed to stand (and with standing came more pain, walking on glass and feeling like his knees would be crippled under his own weight), he looked behind him and saw his own scattered remains. Scraps of fabrics tangled in dusty bones, the durable Shepherd's cloak a tattered mess covering them. He picked apart what he could, wishing only to cover his nudity and pick up the fragments of his former self, even if his mind hadn't put context to any of it yet.

 _Mikleo_. The name kept repeating itself endlessly, and the face he knew so well wormed its way into the forefront of his mind. He wanted to find him right away.

His earrings no longer had the feathers, but the clasps were still intact, so he took those too. He found a broken piece of a blade, not sharp enough to really be useful anymore, and with great effort managed to chop off his hair that had grown freely for however long it had been, and now it hung just past his shoulders. It was manageable, but probably not attractive. The cloak draped over his shoulders (pieces of it worn away, rotten leather bindings making it impossible to adjust now), he walked out of the large structure that he couldn't remember from just yesterday. If the shrine had been rebuilt, he had a feeling he knew who was behind it. His heart swelled.

The rebuilt Camlann was empty. It was full of signs that it had been used until recently, ivy creeping over walls and overgrown gardens of bellflower overtaking crops, but in spite of the damage to the integrity of the houses, they still stood. The air smelled fresh and wonderful, but there was a deep void in his heart and at his left side. He remembered the way back to Elysia, luckily, but all the climbing it took to get through the crumbling ruins scraped at his skin and tore at his already shredded clothes.

Night had fallen before he got through. His home still stood, everything inside coated in thick layers of dust, but he made his way around by moonlight through a few holes in the roof until he'd managed to start a fire. His clothing was all moth-eaten and useless, but he managed to find something that would cover him just a little better than what he had. He also found some of Mikleo's belongings. An old journal, tattered and worn by time and only half-filled sitting next to a leather pouch of Gald that had Sorey's name on a little tag tied to it. Mikleo's delicate handwriting wished him well and safe travel. The aged yellow paper couldn't have been less than fifty years old.

He still couldn't tell how long he'd slept, but already he was exhausted again. The worn sheets from his bed had to be shaken free of dust, but as soon as that was done he collapsed into the lumpy, now-unfamiliar mattress. His dreams were filled of finding Mikleo and little else. He slept fitfully and woke convinced that Mikleo was in some sort of trouble. Sorey, of course, could never walk away when someone was in trouble, so as soon as morning hit he left Elysia, not even sparing a thought to his family there, and sought out the new Shepherd, hoping his friends would still be committed to their pacts with Lailah.

 

 

His clothing earned him so many stares, he stopped to buy something else in Ladylake. Styles and prices had changed so much he had no idea what he was getting into, but he figured anything that looked plain enough would do fine. It felt like a waste of time, everything did, he couldn't even find the time or energy to explore the changes and expansions of the city because the urgency of finding his friends was far more pressing.

But as he walked toward the bridge leaving the city, he caught a glimpse of the rippling fabric of a red and white dress next an aged umbrella and gave chase.

Zaveid grabbed him by the collar, seams new and stiff digging into his throat until he was released a few seconds later, "Well, look who it is! Hey, Lailah! Edna!"

When they turned, Lailah's eyes sparkled with recognition, her hands clapped together over her smiling face, "Sorey! Welcome back!"

"Hope you slept well." Edna shrugged, hint of a smile in her tone that was more sincere than the one on her face.

Uno was with them, standing beside their curious Shepherd. Uno, not Mikleo.

"Where is Mikleo?"

It was a perfectly innocent question, but the range of reactions to it were more troubling than he could have thought. Sorey knew that since a different water Seraph was traveling with them, something must have been wrong - he wasn't so foolish that he wouldn't notice such a thing - but Edna immediately turned and walked away from him as soon as Mikleo's name came from his mouth, without a single word in explanation. Uno chased after her. Lailah wrung her hands over her lap and looked away. Zaveid lowered his hat over his eyes. Their current Shepherd was puzzled and Lailah made an excuse to have him leave.

"He's alive. Don't look at us like that." The wind Seraph put a hand on his hip and looked uncomfortable in spite of his confident stance.

Lailah stepped forward to Sorey and laid a hand on his shoulder, so gentle and calculated in her actions that he grew even more wary of her. "Sorey," She was speaking in a controlled tone that worried him down to his core, "First, I want to properly welcome you back. Will you stay with us a while?"

Suddenly she was pushing hair out of his face, anything to keep distracted. "Of course I'll come back, but I really want to find Mikleo. Did something happen to him?"

"Sorey, he doesn't want to be found." Lailah said, stern and caring. "We can't tell you where he is. Please, come with us for now."

"I never lost track of him." Zaveid corrected her and she spun to face him, staring coldly up at him. "The kid deserves to know, Lailah."

"That's not the _problem_ , Zaveid!"

"Yeah, yeah," he ignored her, waving his hand dismissively. That was enough of an indication of how bad the situation was to bring fear into the range of emotions stirring in the pit of Sorey's stomach. "Sorey. You should travel with us for a few days. We're heading in the right direction for now."

"But Sorey, please understand that things are different now." Lailah messed with his hair more, drawing it away from his face. She seemed to be scared to meet his eyes. "You know he missed you, and he did wait for you."

"...What's going on?"

"He… He made a mistake. He took it rather hard, and he's punishing himself for it."

Zaveid crossed his arms over his chest and let out a huff, "But we made a promise to him not to tell you the details. So you'll have to ask him yourself."

Lailah closed her eyes and lowered her head in a mournful bow, "We also said we'd not track him, but maybe there _are_ promises you won't keep."

"Hey, I never agreed to that one."

Their bickering raised panic in his chest, his heart beating hard enough to hear it. Sorey liked solving puzzles, at least he thought he did, but this terrified him. Something had happened that had made Mikleo leave. Somehow, Mikleo had become a divisive topic amongst his friends. "Guys, I'm scared. Stop it, okay?" They looked at him, fell silent, then looked at each other.

"Just travel with us for a few days, Sorey. We'll fill you in, and you can tell us what you remember."

He lowered his head, bitter with disappointment and anxiety, but he knew he had no choice for now. He also knew that Mikleo asking them not to tell him anything meant he was avoiding _him_ , and that was the most horrifying part of all this.

 

"I've got you," Sorey breathed out. He saw Mikleo's face twist in so many emotions, but he focused on the smile and the way his eyes softened as he heard Sorey's voice. Groaning earth beneath him starting crumbling, and he pulled with such urgency on Mikleo's hand that it pained him. Mikleo wasn't heavy, but it was no easy task to pull a fully grown adult up like this. Even harder after centuries of sleep, and he was pretty sure Mikleo had grown since the last time they'd seen each other. He murmured words of encouragement and successfully dragged his friend over the edge just in time. They both glanced back to watch loosened stones tumble into the pit, and swiftly forgot all about it as Mikleo threw himself at Sorey.

"You're really _here!_  Do you have any idea how long it's been?" Mikleo sat up again, his hands firm on Sorey's shoulders and a large, hopeful smile across his face. He looked as beautiful as Sorey remembered, but the changes were as lovely and simple as they could have been; a long, disheveled ponytail was the first change he noticed, loose hair shining pale around his face in a frame like moonlight. His shoulders had broadened, his clothes were heavier, and he was possibly a little taller. The expression on his face now spoke volumes, fear and hope and creeping sadness underneath his glee.

"Almost a thousand years. I know. I'm here, now." Sorey offered, his arms wide to give what comfort he could. The water Seraph took him up on it, diving to his chest and holding him so tightly while he wept, Sorey had trouble breathing. He accepted the burden as his due. "We'll be okay," He said quietly, more to himself than to the upset man hiding his face in his clothes, "We'll be okay from now on. Things will be easy."

There was a short pause in Mikleo's breathing that let him know that his words were heard, but otherwise he gave no response.

While they walked out of the ruins, Sorey didn't let go of Mikleo's hand. They hadn't spoken another word to each other, sharing in an understanding that things had changed and they would need time to adjust. The fresh smells of spring swept around them, whipping their capes behind them as they continued on. Neither of them could break the silence yet. He hadn't imagined that Mikleo was taller. His height passed Sorey's now, and his limbs seemed almost too long.

The Shepherd's garb was in tatters, yellowed with age, but Sorey didn't have much else to fight off the last bit of the year's cold. Underneath, the clothes he wore were plain, not very well suited to him or his tastes, but functional.

The inn was a few hours away. The large valley they walked through was beautiful and green, the earth spotted by clouds and the grass nearly tall enough to reach their knees, scattered with tall flowers. Afternoon sunlight slowly fell below the horizon as they continued on. It was only when they reached the town, somewhere Sorey had never been before in his life, that they spoke.

"They can see us," Sorey's simple pleasure at the fact brought a smile to Mikleo's face, "I didn't even realize I had become a Seraph at first, because people could see me."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke."

Sorey shook his head, his longer hair falling over his shoulders and in his face. "You couldn't have known I'd wake up. It's fine."

Silence fell again, and Mikleo squeezed his hand and pulled him into the inn. He said that there wasn't much to the nightlife of this area, so they could explore in the morning, as much as Sorey wanted, and Sorey agreed.

Mikleo already had a room rented out on the second floor; apparently he'd had it for the better part of a month, everything unpacked and stored in the dresser. He pulled out a change of clothes, dark blue, black and brown, and offered it to Sorey, "I've always had these with me," He mused, "But they're your size, not mine. I hope that isn't too strange."

"Not for you." Sorey grinned. They'd known each other so long that he couldn't be surprised that Mikleo would always be the one prepared for everything. He changed into the clothes, styled after the casual garments he'd worn in their youth, and savored the fond expression Mikleo wore. It felt uneasy, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

"Let me cut your hair." The older seraph spoke suddenly.

"Huh? Can't I keep it long, like you?"

A disappointed look. It was unexpected from such a harmless question, and Sorey had trouble meeting it. "Maybe just the front, then? Keep it out of your face?"

With a nod, he accepted and sat down in the chair, taking in his surroundings while Mikleo got ready. The inn room was set up for a single person, but decorated with ornate treasures and scented herbal garnishes. Fresh flowers in white and blue, delphinium and rain lilies, were tied in a bright ribbon and hanging on the back of the door to dry out, wormwood accents around it filling the room with a pleasant smell. Sconces fixed to beams in the walls flickered but didn't seem to be lit by fire. Several decorative carved figures sat on the shelf, but they didn't seem to have any anthropological value so he knew they didn't belong to Mikleo. These were just furnishings in the inn, making him wonder if there had been some sort of special treatment for Seraphim or if the owners of the establishment just wanted to keep things fancy and decorated. The world he'd missed all these years had truly recovered a lot from the days he'd been the Shepherd. "I met Lailah and the others when I set out to look for you."

Mikleo stilled for an instant, but recovered swiftly and started brushing out the tangled mess of Sorey's hair. "I see. How are they doing? It's been a long time since I last saw them."

The reaction hadn't been hard to catch, and he continued as his heart sank in his chest. "She's fine. She said a lot about you, though."

The brush caught a knot and Mikleo combed it out ever so gently with his fingers. If he hadn't known better, he would have wondered if the elder seraph was listening at all, but he _did_ know better. Trying to talk to him was harder than it had ever been. "...I see."

"Mikleo, Lord of Water. But sometimes called Blue Devil or… something like that. Is that right?" No response came from that, his friend just kept brushing his hair out. Eventually, he brought out scissors and started trimming away at the hair in front of his eyes.

"Your eyes are still the same color… So is your hair. I suppose that makes sense, since you haven't awakened to your element yet. I hope they stay this way, though." Mikleo noted aloud, pleased. Even while looking at Sorey's face, it felt like he was staring right past it. It was unsettling.

"She said you grew to be one of the most powerful and most respected Seraphim, even after Uno started travelling with them instead of you. You took over the Trial of Water and you were on some sort of council in Ladylake, and everything you did sounds really amazing."

There was a bitter smile on Mikleo's face, a complete lack of pride in his accomplishments. It was unlike him, worryingly so. He didn't meet Sorey's gaze. "Until I killed a Shepherd. She told you that, right?"

Crushing silence. This was an unavoidable confrontation after what the others had told him, but who would really want to have it? Who would want to _believe_ it? Sorey looked down, but Mikleo guided him back up by his chin, silently reminding him to stay still. The only sound for the next few passing minutes was the sound of those scissors and Sorey's tremulous breathing. Once he built up the nerve, he asked, "What happened, Mikleo?"

"He failed the trial." Mikleo answered easily, but Sorey wasn't fooled. His demeanor was so collected and false, like it always had been when he was trying too hard to hide something. It was subtle, but his voice quivered as he continued, "I could have let him live. But I didn't."

"Lailah said it was an accident." A mistake, he almost corrected himself, but the difference between those words wasn't enough for him to fret over.

"Lailah lied," He finally set down the scissors, standing behind Sorey and tying his hair back into a tail using the cord and feather he'd previously worn around his waist. "Or maybe that's what she believes."

"Why? Why would she believe that, if you're saying otherwise?"

"He compared himself to you." Sorey tasted the bitterness in Mikleo's words, found himself too weak to stand as Mikleo told his story. "He failed the Trial, and she wanted me to give him one more chance. I don't even remember what he said after that. Something about becoming better than you, the Legendary Shepherd Sorey, and I lost control of the situation."

"...How?"

"I created a monster to test their strength, and they did fine. They failed to decipher the test of spirit, and it corrupted him. Almost instantly."

Sorey still wanted to believe it was an accident, that his friend had just accepted the guilt and carried it so long that it had somehow _become_ his fault, over time. It seemed the most likely explanation because Mikleo, _his_ Mikleo was thoughtful and kind (though not always outwardly), not to mention a pushover who'd do anything if one of their friends bothered him about it, and his kindness always led him to making up for where others fell short. "That's not like you."

"I know." He took a knee before Sorey, taking his hands and looking up at him with a loving, pleading face that could have ripped his heart from his chest. "Not a day goes by that I'm not aware of how I've changed."

Of course he'd changed, everything changed, and it wasn't fair because for Sorey it had all happened in the blink of an eye. But his friend was still very much recognizable as his best friend. Outward changes aside, he wanted to see that Mikleo was still the same dependable, headstrong and passionate person he'd always known. Sorey leaned forward in the chair and kissed him, his chapped lips against perfectly smooth Mikleo's, just for a short instant that should have melted away the awkward barriers set up by time. Those lips were much colder than he remembered. "We all make mistakes," He said, voice hushed. He was trying to convince himself just as much as Mikleo, "But you forced yourself into exile, because of that?" The elation he saw in Mikleo over that kiss faded slowly as he spoke.

Mikleo stood and walked toward the bed in the corner, unable to answer. His arms were crossed tightly over his body, anxiety clear in his posture. He didn't want Sorey to ask what they both knew was coming next. Sorey took a deep breath.

"...Or is it because of the Malevolence tainting your domain?"

He watched his friend flinch and cover his face, but couldn't move to comfort him no matter how compelled he felt to do so. In a few seconds, ice cracked and melted like shedding skin, the frozen mask concealing him gone and revealing his secrets, and he turned to face Sorey again, scales glistening around his eyes and jaw, his pupils sharpened like needles and a faint honey glow in his irises. Tears fell, and they seemed to hurt the scaled skin by the way he squinted and rubbed at his face as it got worse. "If even a fledgling Seraph like you can sense it, I…"

Sorey managed to stand, startled and concerned, but Mikleo immediately took a step backwards to keep his distance.

"I'm so far gone, Sorey. I hoped so much that it would recede over time, or that your awakening would purify me. But I waited too long." They didn't look at each other. Mikleo's unsteady breathing as he tried to contain his anguish was enough, and too much, sound to fill the entire room.

The air itself in that moment was miserable. When Sorey turned to the small mirror on the wall, he saw his old self reflected, every single strand of hair styled the way Mikleo used to like it when they were young, longer pieces drawn back like his armatized self, and every last button on his clothes perfectly in place. The memories ought to have felt so fresh, but whether it felt like a week ago or one thousand years, he couldn't live in the past. Nor could Mikleo.

Sorey slowly walked to his old friend, trying his best not to alarm him as he took him into his arms.

"I'm sorry."

"This isn't your fault." Mikleo looked at him, and those striking eyes sent chills up Sorey's spine. His eyes had always been lovely, but now there was sadness and danger in them Sorey had never seen before.

Sorey stared, taking in this otherworldly creature in front of him. His opinion on Mikleo's appearance hadn't changed as much as it should have. He was far more exotic now than any other Seraph Sorey had ever seen, the scales were a cloudy night sky, shimmering iridescent with every color that could possibly matter against Mikleo's skin. "How bad is it? Let me see."

Mikleo sat down on the bed, with apparent reluctance removing his layered shirts and gloves. His hands were covered in the same fine scales, as were his arms and his back, his fingernails were thickened and black and his spine looked like it was sharpening into ridges. It appeared to have been spreading for some time, though it hadn't reached his front yet. Sorey sat beside him and slipped his palm against the scales on Mikleo's back, marveling at how smooth it felt. At the shoulder blades, there were painful-looking, bulging mounds that felt warmer to the touch. He assumed these were the beginnings of wings, and that was the reason for the extra cape pieces on his outfit. Covering them up.

"How long has it been like this?" Sorey pressed his forehead to Mikleo's shoulder, depression weighing down on him so suddenly it became a dull, throbbing ache in his stomach. It hurt him to see his friend like this, even with the fascination distracting him.

"A few hundred years," Mikleo answered softly, finally under control of his breathing again. "I've done everything I can to hold it back."

"We've all seen how fast this can happen," Sorey pointed out, sitting back upright, "You're incredible to hold it off this long. Maybe we can find a way to help you."

"Lailah said the same thing. On the other hand, Edna refuses to speak to me or of me, and Zaveid offered to kill me when the time came. I couldn't find anything, all these years. Seeing you was my last hope."

"It's not _my_ last hope." Sorey clapped his hand on Mikleo's shoulder, but pulled it away suddenly when he saw Mikleo wince. At least now he understood exactly why the others had avoided telling him much, avoided even eye contact when he asked for his friend's whereabouts. His memories were still vague, formless things, out of sequence and blurred by his rebirth, but he recalled a woman in Marlind, her Malevolence fading on its own. He knew this wasn't the same thing, but knowing it was possible made him hopeful. "Have any of the Shepherds tried to--"

"Of course they have. Any good it does is temporary," Mikleo's dangerous eyes met Sorey's again, making him shudder again. "It's coming from me. It's not tainting me, I'm the one causing the corruption."

"And you thought… If I was back, it would stop."

A nod.

"...So, my not being here caused you to feel this way?"

Mikleo's face contorted with too many emotions to read. Sorey recognized most of it, grief and guilt heaviest in his posture. He hunched forward, face in his hands, "No. I can't put the blame on you."

Sorey leaned against him again, the scales cool against his cheek. For the entire time after awakening in a recently emptied Camlann, he'd only been seeking out the one dearest to him, finding rumors and curses instead of any direction. He'd ignored the others' warnings readily, because his beloved water Seraph had mattered more than any dangers that he could have faced. Because Sorey would always have faith in him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, holding his friend's hand again and rubbing the scaling on the back of it with his thumb. When he felt a squeeze, he noticed how sharp the fingernail-claws had become. What he felt at that moment was somewhere in the middle of hope and dread, but not an absence of love. "You're not wearing it anymore?"

It didn't really matter. It was probably uncomfortable with the changes, but Mikleo answered in a gentle tone, "I still have it, somewhere safe. It broke, though." He splayed out his hand and Sorey laced their fingers together almost immediately.

"We should get matching ones, next." He was pleased when Mikleo laughed at him, and they sat in silence for a while after that, trying to find the comfort of the past again. It was there, somewhere. Faint and fragile.

"...I want it to be you," Mikleo admitted finally, "If you're going to be with me until the end, I want you to be the one to finish it."

Sorey didn't move from his position or open his eyes, but nodded. "If you let me spend the meantime figuring out how to save you."

"Your dreams, though. Sorey, I can't take those from you."

"I have time, since I'm a Seraph now." A part of him understood exactly why Mikleo had separated himself from the others, and why he was no longer fighting and growing in strength. That part of him ached for his best friend's state, knowing the sadness carried on Mikleo's shoulders. He knew Mikleo had exiled himself to try and weaken his abilities, trying to make sure that he'd be easier to kill when the time came. It broke his heart that it was so obvious. He wondered if anyone else had picked up on it. "I want to spend as much of it as possible with you. My dreams always included you."

He felt Mikleo's other hand rest on top of his. "I should cover back up."

"Don't." He said quickly.

"Sorey?"

"It doesn't matter to me what you look like. But I want to know it, so I'll know if it's getting better." He felt a faint rush of warmth just under the scaled skin on Mikleo's shoulder, and counted it as a positive thing.

After a long pause, Mikleo spoke up, amused, "You haven't changed a bit."

Obviously, Sorey couldn't say the same to him. He'd been asleep and he couldn't have changed, and he'd known even before sleeping that the Seraphim he'd known before would be changing apart from him for a long time. Underneath the draconic eyes and skin, Mikleo's heart was still beating. Buried under years of this depression, he could tell Mikleo still held the same desires and values. He wasn't sure how deeply it was buried. Still, he smiled and moved to look at his friend in the eyes, to show his sincerity. "You haven't changed as much as you think."

He was pleased that Mikleo smiled back at him, but the water Seraph made no reply, doubtful. So Sorey kissed him again, his friend's soft mouth warmer than minutes ago but still cool, like rushing water rather than ice, the sharp fingernails catching his shirt to hold him close. The desperation in Mikleo's actions made him hopeful that he'd changed his mind.

In most Malevolent domains it had felt hard to breathe, but Mikleo's domain brought him a comfort he couldn't explain; the air was crisp and pleasant, refreshingly cool on his skin. The only sign of Malevolence was hard to sense, though he'd known it was there from the start and he knew Mikleo had kept it tightly controlled. He had to concentrate to find it, a spiraling, oozing mist around his friend's heart. It pulsated and bled. If he focused on it, it seemed more and more grotesque, but he became more aware of just how careful his friend was being, making sure that none of it could touch Sorey.

This person in front of him was Mikleo. This gorgeous being he'd been so enamored with since childhood still melted into his hands, leaning forward even as Sorey pulled apart, looking up and pleading, "Sorey, you don't know how much I've hated to think of you seeing me like this. I'm sorry I ran."

The words tore at him, one side ready to deny that it mattered because they'd fix it, the other half of him already in denial. For the moment, it felt like all those years between then and now hadn't happened and Mikleo's skin was flawless and his soul untainted. He placed his hand on Mikleo's face, thumbing over the cloudy scales just under his eyes. They were smooth like small glass beads, slightly damp from the earlier tears. "I'm sorry, Mikleo."

"Don't apologize. I don't blame you at all, I'm just so glad you're back." His voice was sultry and low, the manner usually reserved for their quiet moments alone. The familiarity struck Sorey in just the right ways, his heart beating faster. He drew him closer and kissed him again, the cool wetness of Mikleo's tongue touched his lips and he welcomed it in, wanting. The fragility of Mikleo's current state tugged on his heart, made him want nothing more than to find a way to help him even if right now, all he could offer was physical comfort. "Is this really okay?"

"You're Mikleo," Sorey answered, immediate and confident, "It's better than okay."

"Sometimes you seem so… simple." They both gave a short laugh, and Sorey felt his way down his friend's body, taking initiative if only to prove that he really _did_  want this, that he still had all the love in the world for Mikleo and he still wanted to act on it as he had when they were young and he was still human. It was true that his rebirth had calmed his desires, but it was hard to notice that while Mikleo was already half undressed under his hands, even in this state. When he tried to guide the water Seraph down onto his back, Mikleo stiffened and resisted. "I can't. Sorry, but it hurts… that way."

"Oh…" He murmured and gave a nod, trying not to show any disappointment that he didn't really feel but worried that he might be expressing, "I want to look at you."

His words rewarded him, Mikleo's skin warming and his face pink. The coloration of his scales even seemed more intense, and Sorey couldn't help but smile while he removed the clothes Mikleo had just given him, not wanting to dirty them the first hour he wore them. Once his shirts were folded and set aside, he was pushed down. He was on the wrong side of the bed, but he couldn't care while pinned under Mikleo's gentle touches, more careful than he ever remembered those hands being. Claws scraped him once, very softly, and he understood why. Even so, he wanted Mikleo to keep touching him.

His new belt was dropped beside the bed and his pants were opened and pulled down just to his knees. He propped himself up on his elbows, intent on watching every little move the water Seraph made; he was so cautious, mindful of his nails while he exposed Sorey's erection, his brows furrowed in concentration as he decided against using his hands and took it into his mouth instead. He glanced at Sorey, and as their eyes met he seemed pleased. Sorey felt dazed.

The mouth on him was hot and cool at the same time, warmth of life and the chill of water blending together imperfectly and overflowing. Sorey had only ever been with Mikleo before, he wasn't sure what it would feel like otherwise, and that suited him fine because this was a kind of heaven, wet and messy and beautiful. He fell back and covered his mouth, mumbling complimentary words and curses alike against his palm. He noticed, but decided not to mention, that the teeth he sometimes felt lightly scraping him seemed sharper than he could remember. He wondered if he was imagining that.

There was a pressure, firm hands on his hips letting him know that he'd been thrusting forward and hadn't realized it, which he knew Mikleo hadn't appreciated. The new sensations intrigued him, the silken hair tickling his thighs and stomach especially. When it became too much, he pushed his hand against Mikleo's forehead to let him know to stop.

Mikleo didn't stop, though. Sorey whined a complaint, but then held both hands over his mouth now to stay quiet, a habit left behind from the days they'd kept this a secret and he was the only one who could have been heard, and involuntarily raised his hips off the bed as he shivered through his orgasm. Mikleo swallowed around him before even pulling his head away, pressing kisses to Sorey's skin a few times before he raised himself back to his feet.

Sorey struggled to sit back up right away, shooting a slightly annoyed look at his friend. He wasn't actually bothered, and Mikleo knew it, smiling at him and leaning over him again, more kisses all along his jaw and neck. The sweet nature of his touches was a sharp contrast to the new appearance, but it felt right, uncomplicated, and he knew he wouldn't have any trouble growing aroused again quickly enough. He reached over and unfastened Mikleo's pants.

A thoughtful pause passed as he tried to pull Mikleo into his lap, and the elder Seraph wore a guilty look. "I can't prepare myself like this."

"I'll take care of you," Sorey smiled and Mikleo reached in the drawer on the bedside table and produced a short jar filled with salve that Sorey recognized as something he'd always used when younger in Elysia, on his hands after they'd been practicing with weapons and his skin was sensitive or scraped up badly. It helped most when Sorey's skin was dry and itchy. He noted that, but again, didn't comment on it. They hadn't carried it with them when traveling before, and he wasn't sure how well it would work, but it would be fine for now.

Mikleo removed his pants the rest of the way and straddled Sorey's lap, covering his face and neck with soft kisses and bites while he was spreading the salve on his fingers and carefully slipped one inside - it didn't work all that well for this after all, wearing thin quickly, but if it hurt Mikleo kept it to himself. The gasping breaths against his skin were reassuring, and he pushed a second finger in, reaching inside rather than simply stretching him out, trying to remember where things were. Finding the prostate rewarded him when Mikleo shuddered. Throbbing irritation returning between his legs made him impatient, but he knew that Mikleo was likely tender, that there was no one else Mikleo would allow to touch him so he'd probably gone untouched for almost a thousand years, unless he did it for himself. That wasn't impossible, but unlikely considering his discomfort with his changing body.

His other hand was supporting Mikleo's trembling hips, cupping his backside firmly so he wouldn't fall. He desperately wanted to rush this, but he didn't. He kissed the side of Mikleo's neck, right on the edge of his scaling flesh, then bit down on the softer, human side, suckling on the skin hard enough to leave a mark of his own; he was feeling possessive, like he could reclaim the flesh that the taint had mutated. It wasn't something he'd done before, but the water Seraph voiced his appreciation for the action with a muffled moan. "I think that's enough," He spoke in such a small voice that Sorey would have missed it if they were even a few inches apart, "It's been too long. Please."

There was no arguing with that. He squirmed a bit to get into a more accessible position and Mikleo raised his hips, lowering himself back down onto Sorey's erection, chewing on his lip as he did so. "Up to you, how fast we move," Sorey managed to say, his hands on Mikleo's slender, sensitive sides. The skin against his palms felt uncomfortably dry, but he couldn't spare the attention to that sort of detail while he was buried deep inside of his beloved's warmth.

Knees dug into the mattress on either side of him while his friend lifted himself, still shaking from nerves, and dropped back down on him, starting slow and heavy and rolling his hips. Arms around Sorey's shoulders were tight, the breathing on his neck labored. "Touch me?"

He used his hand still somewhat slick with salve, wrapping it tight around Mikleo's erection and jerked fast, rhythmlessly, watching the instant reaction from the Seraph on his lap; his voice was pitched higher when he let out those sounds against Sorey's skin, his body moved faster to try and keep up. The skin covered in scales behaved differently from his human skin, reptilian and strange but not unpleasant. On impulse, he decided to give another reminder, "I love you."

Mikleo let out a strangled cry and had to slow down, leaning back to look Sorey in the eyes. His pupils had dilated and appeared less harsh, but still very inhuman. "...Even like this?"

Sorey wrapped his arm around Mikleo to steady him and keep him in place while he leaned him back (not all the way, sure not to hurt him), taking the lead and thrusting into him over and over before giving a confident, albeit quiet, answer and promise. "No matter what. Always."

Mikleo's back arched just perfectly over his arm, the painful parts of his back missing the mattress but his long silver-blue hair pooled behind his head and spread out in such an enchanting way. Whatever he was becoming, he was still so stunning. In that moment, he couldn't understand Mikleo's doubts, Malevolence forgotten as easily as whatever he'd had for breakfast last week.

Claws were digging into his back and at least once broke skin, though he wouldn't have been able to tell if not for the sting of his sweat in the wound. He didn't mind, too interested in Mikleo's motions and sounds, too wrapped up in the heat and friction of Mikleo's body to bother with pain. The water Seraph squirmed and struggled in his hands and climaxed, semen spilling out on his stomach while he sobbed Sorey's name.

The strain on his arm was making him ache, but he held out until after he finished, his entire body tense, he pushed deep inside when he came. Mikleo twisted onto his side when he let him down onto the bed, breathing still heavy when he grasped Sorey's hand and didn't allow him to leave his side.

He hadn't intended to leave, anyway. He drew his friend into a hug, careful to avoid the swollen growths on his back while he cuddled close. Moonlight spilled in through the window and over Mikleo's creamy skin and illuminated the colors in his scales. The loosened ponytail was sloppily poured over his shoulders and neck, and Sorey combed his dry fingers through it. He decided he could get used to these physical changes, even if they never went away. It was the depressed way Mikleo had been speaking that bothered him, nothing more complicated than that.

"It's been so long since I felt you," Mikleo whispered.

"You won't have to wait anymore." Sorey tried to reassure him, gathering the elder Seraph in his arms more tightly. He could be hopeful now, because he could _feel_ how content his friend was just to be like this again. The gentle sounds of Mikleo's breathing lulled him to sleep.

 

 

 

He woke up with the sunrise, stretching and feeling for the person who was no longer next to him. He groaned in complaint as he sat up, finding his friend washed and dressed already, manipulating water to spread over his skin and cover him with the same mask as before. But that wasn't right, he was _back_ now, alive and safe in Mikleo's arms at night. If his absence had been the cause of this, then it would make sense that the Malevolence would shrink away, and the scales would probably start to fade.

"Stop!" He said loudly, suddenly. When the water Seraph spun around, he adjusted his voice. He didn't want to sound fearful. "Take it back off. Let me see."

"Sorey…" Mikleo spoke his name so sadly that he had to hold his breath, but he did start removing his shirts again. They were set aside and he turned his back, and Sorey's heart caught in his throat.

The scales hadn't receded at all, and in fact looked even _more_ developed than the night before, patterns emerging surrounding his spine in a shimmering golden-ivory trail of eye shapes. Near the edge where it met pale skin, a shining blue spread like waves. However beautiful his friend was, even like this, he covered his mouth and couldn't say anything. He'd really wanted to believe he would have made a difference, a positive one, as Mikleo had wanted him to. Things weren't meant to be getting worse. Malevolence still twisted and coiled in his friend's heart.

"It's never that easy," Mikleo said, voice still low with depression.

"It could be!" Sorey sputtered before he thought about it, "You know better than I do, how Seraphim work. If you believe it will help, then it will!" His heart was racing, and his eyes stung. Mikleo, as he remembered him, didn't just give up like this. He was stubborn and fierce, someone who couldn't have been tainted. It was unthinkable. Neither of them would have been tainted because… Because they had each other to lean on. When he met Mikleo's eyes, he froze. "...It's me, isn't it? You're mad at me."

"Sorey, no."

"You are. You can call me simple, but I'm not stupid. Not when it comes to you."

"No! I'm not. Really, it's not you that made me this way. It's my own fault." He stepped forward and placed a hand on Sorey's face, mindful of his nails. "I resented a lot of the choices we made, even though they were necessary. I'm the one who did this, and I haven't been able to let go."

Sorey shook his head slowly. This wasn't possible. "So being together again won't help, and you're saying I can't do anything?"

Mikleo sat down next to him and gazed at the floor. "Give it time. Give _me_ time."

A warm embrace fell upon him and he quickly returned it, almost instantly lightened by the water Seraph's words. It wasn't a subtle change; those words had been so filled with light, nothing like the stranger who sounded like he was willing to give up just a minute ago. Sorey wasn't going to give up on him, and he wasn't giving up on Sorey. That's the way it belonged.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sorey's optimism became grating very quickly. It was sweet to know he was still so in love, but Mikleo couldn't stand to put up with those glances back at his face, the way Sorey kept turning to him and trying to dig up a topic so that he wouldn't say something about his condition. His actions were obvious and so familiar, it should have been nothing _but_ comfort. He should have felt at home. Instead, the Malevolence he kept so condensed in his heart twisted his emotions and made him bitter. He hated that, and did his best to keep it buried. Because it could never be him, feeling this way about a friend he hadn't seen for almost a thousand years.

Old habits died hard even out of practice for centuries, and he let Sorey lead the way to their next destination after he packed up his things (he left some of his belongings behind, wanting to travel lighter than before). Meeting with the others again, he'd insisted, because if purification from Lailah even helped temporarily, it would be worth it to buy more time. To be fair, that _had_ been Mikleo's mentality when the problem was still new, before he'd realized just how much pressure he'd been causing them to feel just by existing around them.

Sorey told him that they were in Glenwood for the next few months. It would be his first time showing his face there in around seventy years, since the last time he'd swept through Elysia and left journals on Sorey's shelves for safekeeping. He was never permitted to stay long.

"We should go back to Tintagel, too," Sorey said, "There was all sorts of information about the dragon lords in those inscriptions. We should get another look."

"You think I haven't been there?"

Sorey glanced back at him, a good-natured smile on his face to level out whatever irritation Mikleo felt. "Probably not in a while. Let me look with you, this time."

Mikleo nodded and crossed his arms, glancing around. Someone was in his domain, but he didn't know who. Without sensing any Malevolence he wouldn't attack, especially with Sorey around. It wasn't as though people didn't travel, anyway, it didn't have to be something suspicious. But he could sense they were armed. He kept it to himself, but knew to keep an eye on it. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Um, like what?"

"Like you're trying so hard to make sure I won't notice. I know how I look, Sorey, you don't need to avoid it like my feelings will be hurt." Sorey's pace slowed for long enough to let them walk side-by-side, and Mikleo allowed that gesture to mean something.

"You cried, though."

His jaw tightened, but he couldn't deny it.

"You don't really cry often. At least, not in front of me."

A sigh escaped him and his shoulders relaxed. If that's all it was, then it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. They just needed to re-learn how to be around each other, after all the ways they've changed. No, that wasn't right - only _he'd_ changed, Sorey had simply slept the time away and still wanted everything to be as simple as it was when they were teenagers. "Pretend it never happened. I've had a long time to deal with this. Seeing you just..."

_Made it worse. So much worse._

But that wasn't fair either, putting pressure on Sorey that he didn't deserve. None of this was Sorey's fault. "I was overwhelmed."

"Me too. I still kind of am." He smiles, warm and pleased. "I didn't expect so much time to pass. I knew it would be a while, but…"

A lot had happened, and many adjustments would be needed, but Sorey was always the sort who'd be up to the task. He didn't know who started it, but their fingers touched, and they held tightly and continued along the road. The mountain pass was narrow, lined with evergreens and towering cliffs, and he noted that the presence he'd picked up on was drawing closer. In his free hand, he drew his staff, and Sorey eyed it warily before looking up at him (and that was the first time he noticed that he'd gained a few inches on his friend - the reason for it didn't exactly make him feel up to celebrating though). "It's alright. Just in case."

Sorey nodded and picked up on the intrusion, conjuring an ornamental sword Mikleo hadn't seen before. "Lailah gave it to me," He said, smiling broadly and admiring the decorative blade, "And she taught me how to store it within myself, too. It's a lot neater than you made it seem."

Mikleo couldn't help but smile, "Well, I didn't want to make you jealous."

"Yeah, right!" He laughed. The sound of boots scuffing on gravel and pieces of armor clinking together drew their attention away from their brief flirtation with normalcy, forcing them to let go of each other's hands. A small group, just three, stood solidly ahead of them, poised to attack.

One held a sword, two wielded drawn bows, arrows trained on Mikleo's head. The three were all human, and probably part of a vigilante group he'd had run-ins with before. They told him to stand down, and of course he wouldn't, especially not with Sorey beside him. The one on the left, he sensed, had abilities surpassing the other two.

He raised his staff as the archers fired, arrows tilted off-course by simple streams of water, and Sorey dashed ahead in a flash, strength rather than sharpness cutting through one of the archer's weapons. Next, he lunged into the swordsman hard with his shoulder and knocked him into the third man. Before Mikleo could do anything else, Sorey raised his voice, "Get out of here! Go!"

_So much for his trust._

Weapon lowered, Mikleo stared at Sorey in disbelief. There was a panic in his friend, unmistakable. "I wasn't going to _hurt_  them, Sorey!" He called out, defensive, and that leftmost archer raised their bow again to hastily fire at him, arrow imbued with earth's might and knocking him back into a tree without piercing him. It wouldn't have been so bad, but a branch broke against his back and stabbing pain erupted from one of the sore spots, hot liquid soaking his shirt.

Sorey called his name before turning angrily and slicing through that archer's weapon and landing a blow to their midriff. The swordsman swung at him and Sorey spun the handle of his blade in his hand to block more effectively, kicking their knees to knock them back down. His raised aggression finally chased them off. It was likely that they hadn't expected to even fight anything real, if their guard was so down. Maybe they'd encountered him before.

All Mikleo had intended to do was disappear and get away, as he usually did. If they still wanted a fight he'd toss them around, but he avoided killing people because he'd always done so, he'd always thought of what Sorey would want of him and he always held back, even when they angered him. And now, here Sorey was, doubting him.

He groaned and staggered to his feet, hand on his own shoulder but he couldn't reach the actual injury. Sorey was at his side.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he scowled, "Did you think I'd kill them?"

"Huh? No, I…" But his voice tapered off, and he looked at the wet spot on Mikleo's back, "Let me take a look at that."

"No," He repeated, casting a healing spell on himself and storing his staff. "Why did you do that? We could have gotten away easily."

Sorey didn't take his eyes off Mikleo's back, "...I don't like that they were attacking you. What did you do to make them want to?"

"Nothing new," Mikleo stated, stepping over broken weapons and continuing on stubbornly. The humans hadn't reached the edge of his domain yet, but they were still fleeing. "I've been blamed for plenty, but nothing I did. I keep to myself."

_Still Waters. The change is less when nothing is there to stir you up._

"I believe you, of course." Sorey said, hurrying to catch up and take Mikleo's hand again, "Is this everywhere? People are scared of you?"

"Aren't you the only one who isn't?" He asked plainly, "I'm a monster to everyone else who sees me. It's why I hide my face."

Sorey looked at the ground. He hadn't made the connection before that moment, and he looked crushed. "You're not a monster. No matter how bad this gets, you won't be."

He conjured water, prepared to shield his face again, and Sorey tugged on his hand to stop him.

"It's just us now. So it's fine, right?"

Mikleo held eye contact, clenching his teeth. Sorey meant well in all things. He always did. There was never a reason not to trust in him because he was always honest. He shouldn't have to remind himself of any of that, but he did and he sighed. "You really can be so simple, sometimes. I missed this."

Sorey smiled and nodded, and Mikleo pressed a brief kiss to his lips before they continued on. Simplicity was something his life had been lacking for a long time.

 

 

 

By nightfall, he had a fever and his healing spells were ineffective. He couldn't hide these things, and he ought to know better.

"Let it air out," Sorey said, building a fire. They hadn't reached their next stop, a port town that would be able to ship them off to Glenwood in just a day of travel over the water. They were probably about a half a day of walking away, but needed the break.

Mikleo nodded, loosening his hair and bringing it over his shoulder so it would stay out of the way while he removed his shirt. The undershirt was the problem, the scabbed-over pus and blood dried to the fabric and ripped at his skin as he pulled it off.

Fire built, Sorey stepped around Mikleo to look at the injury. He touched it, his fingers gentle but it still caused stinging pain and made him wince. "Sorry!" Sorey spoke kindly, moving his hand to the unopened swelling. "Do I need an element to use healing spells?"

He shook his head and turned just enough to look over his shoulder, "I'll show you. Give me your hand?"

Sorey held his hand out and Mikleo did little more than touch his wrist, golden light bursting between them for a brief moment. Sorey's eyes closed, concentrating as he absorbed the feeling that spell gave off. It was just a simple one, the best Mikleo could manage through his fever, but Sorey had always been adaptable. He'd pick up on it quickly, probably even improve on it within a few hours. A few minutes of concentration and he placed his hand over Mikleo's back, spreading comfort and light from his inside out, cooling down the infection. "Is that okay?"

He nodded, "That felt right. I'll probably be fine with rest."

"Oh! Uh, here." Sorey moved again, and gently pulled Mikleo to rest his head in his lap. "Lie on your stomach, maybe? If it opens again, we should keep dirt out of it."

Mikleo smiled weakly, pleased. "I should apologize, Sorey."

Hands started playing with his hair, combing softly through it, "For what?"

"I worried so long, over whether or not you'd forget. Along the way, I think I started to forget you."

"Maybe a little. Trying to chase me off was a bad idea, but you knew I'd still come for you. You kept these clothes for me. You waited a long time." He leaned back, still calmly petting Mikleo's hair to help relax him. "I don't really think you need to apologize. You did everything right by me. Always have."

His eyes stung briefly and he hid his face against his friends stomach until it passed. "Idiot."

"See, you remember your nickname for me!" They both laughed, somewhat awkward but sweetly, and the conversation fizzled out. Sorey continued petting his hair. "Remember when we were kids, when I was sulking because I got scolded and you stole Gramps' pipe?"

Mikleo had almost started to fall asleep, but woke himself with laughter, "Yeah. I remember that. Eventually we were both sulking."

"But before that, you started making rainbows and bubbles with water to make me feel better." It was a long time ago, ancient in Mikleo's mind, the days he taught himself to manipulate water for simple illusions with light. He remembered far more vividly the delight on Sorey's face, to be surrounded with a spectrum of colors. He found so much pride in those memories. "You've always had the water element, right?"

"I chose it as an infant," He said quietly, having trouble with the details. It was such a powerful moment in his life he'd never forget it, infancy or not. "You were premature, your lungs were full, and I could sense somehow that controlling water could save you."

There was a long pause, Sorey's body tense, "This is the first time you told me that." He said, voice low, "You really have always taken care of me."

Mikleo propped himself up, fighting off the tired dizziness, and looked more directly at Sorey now. "Are you worried about finding your element?"

"Not worried, no. Just wondering how it happens." Sorey leaned back on both of his hands, shrugging, "I want to take to water, too. We could find underwater ruins together."

He grinned and pressed his face into his friend's clothes, taking a deep breath. "There are definitely a few worth seeing. But you shouldn't hope for water based on that. I can take us there, myself."

"You really have gotten better. I don't think you could even swim, before."

"Rude. Of course I could."

"Really? I never got to learn."

"I wouldn't worry. Your empty head can be used as a flotation device."

Sorey took the joke with laughter and started petting him again, sliding his thumb over the scales on his cheek a few times. "You haven't forgotten anything, Mikleo."

With a sigh, Mikleo accepted the comfort Sorey offered him and rested his head, letting the fever put him to sleep. He dreamed that night of the fallen Shepherd, wearing Sorey's face instead. Mangled body on the floor of the trial, chilling cold sweeping through the ruins. Horror on the faces of his old friends.

_There are ripples. The waters are no longer still._

 

 

His fever was worse in the morning, pressure on his shoulder wounds so intense he could barely move. He tried though, waking Sorey when he gasped in pain.

"Mikleo? What's--"

"I need to drain it…" His voice felt raspy and dry, he always felt dry when he was ill like this, "My pack… hand it to me?"

Sorey looked horrified, but nodded, grabbing Mikleo's travel pack and opening it, "You have a knife in here?"

"Mmn," He managed to lift himself and reach inside a pocket sewn into the back, drawing a dagger given to him years ago and kept perfectly sharp. Sorey's eyes widened when he recognized it, but he didn't say anything until Mikleo tried to reach around himself with the dagger in hand.

"Wait! I'll do it." Sorey insisted, snatching the knife from his hand and scrambling to start the fire again. It started quickly, and Sorey held the blade in it for some time while it built up.

"Hurry--" Mikleo whimpered, and hated himself for sounding so pathetic. He lowered back onto the ground, stiffly moving his arms to keep his face out of the dirt. The swollen pressure throbbed, his breathing shortened.

"Hold on, I've got it…" Sorey sounded so unsure, but climbed over him and pinned him to the earth, hesitating for only a moment. The blade bit his skin and fluids flowed over his back. It smelled foul, the infection had festered under his skin for too long.

"The other one, too. It hurts." He mumbled, chewing on his blackened thumbnail to better handle the pain. A few seconds later and the knife pierced him again.

"Mikleo… There's something--"

Before he could protest, the knife cut along his skin, lengthening the first small wound, and Sorey's hands were on either side of the cut, pressing down. He cried out, his throat raw as he choked back an even louder cry, tears burning the scales near his eyes. He tried to tell Sorey to stop, but couldn't form the words because he felt the opening expand, flesh tearing apart, and the pain was immeasurable. Something in the growth moved, slipping out as Sorey pulled slowly, _excruciatingly_ slowly at it, whispering words of apology. The sound of it was vulgar, oozing and bloody as it was freed.

A crippled, almost purely skeletal wing, crumpled up like dampened waste paper from being trapped under his skin for so long.

He wept, trying to stay quiet as Sorey released the other one. The pain of it didn't matter anymore, because all that was truly agonizing was how he'd tried so hard to fight this off. And now there were wings, and they would grow, overtake him in size someday. He couldn't _hide_ anymore.

Sorey quietly let him back up, toweling off the blood with the frayed cloak. "Are you okay?"

Mikleo shook his head and struggled to his feet, steadied when Sorey took his hands, and removed the rest of his clothing. With more difficulty, he managed the strength to summon water and wash himself off, clean the smell off and quickly-drying pus and blood. He didn't have the strength to move the malformed wings, and wondered if that would change. His chest hurt, tight.

He cleaned the knife, too, almost guiltily after what he'd needed to use it for.

The misery in Sorey's eyes tugged at his heart in ways he hadn't felt in centuries, "Am I a monster yet?"

The answer was immediate, Sorey standing right in front of him with hands on either side of his face, their foreheads pressed together. "No. You're Mikleo."

A subtle catch in his breath spoke far more than words, in a language Mikleo couldn't quite decipher.


	2. Hydrophobia

"Meebo is late." Edna tapped her umbrella on the table impatiently. "He acts all excited and now he's late. So rude."

"Now, now," Lailah laughed, "He's kept very busy with his books lately. I'm sure he's _write_  outside now!" She made a gesture as if to explain her joke.

There was silence at their table for almost a full three minutes, begun by the typical groans that followed Lailah's puns, and continued with quiet until the door eventually opened. Mikleo slammed it shut behind him and leaned against it, disheveled and wet. He murmured an apology that was widely ignored and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

The others stood immediately and walked over to him, trying to welcome rather than overwhelm but he was already shaken. Watered-down blood on his sleeves and pants stood out far more as they got closer. Lailah and Zaveid exchanged anxious glances, Edna prodded him with the handle of her umbrella.

If she used the handle, she meant no unkindness by it. That's what they'd all come to understand over the years.

"Meebo. What happened?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"You're bleeding, so it's not fine at all." She tilted her head and stared up at him, "Tell me."

It was seventy-five years into Sorey's sleep. He couldn't have been more miserable, but he'd made the choice to stay alone for a while after Rose's passing. She was the final remnant of any sort of human life he'd pretended to experience, and he needed his own way of coping. For the ten years after her burial, he wrote his book about Sorey, and then wrote another about Rose and Alisha and everyone's journeys beyond Sorey's life. He didn't publish either one.

They'd made the agreement to meet every quarter century as a group, celebrate their accomplishments and reinforce their goals. It was only the second time they'd had such a meeting and he already looked on those accomplishments as wasted, and those goals as misguided. The day before he hadn't thought so, but he certainly did while he was bleeding.

"This town. Did you call me here because they can see us?" He asked, averting his gaze to watch the floor.

Pity in their eyes, Zaveid and Lailah combined their abilities to warm and dry him.

"No, but I'm not surprised they could see you. With all the storms lately, they caught glimpses of Zaveid and Uno, too." Lailah explained, a soft smile on her face. "They've had a blessing here for a long time, so their natural resonance is much higher here."

"Great. They tried to kill me." He said bluntly, and she flinched. He hadn't meant it to come out so cold, but there was bitterness in his every thought since his encounter with those men, regret sinking deeper into his heart and taking root there. Zaveid grabbed his chin and lifted his face, getting a better look. He recoiled from the touch with eyes wide from shock, back against the door, and maybe that was too telling. He shivered, "...Since I'm a water Seraph, they said the floods were my doing."

"Don't tell me you just stood there and took it. That's not like you, Kiddo."

"I didn't want to hurt them!" He argued, much louder than he intended, and Zaveid frowned. "That's not… What _he'd_  want. I tried to reason with them."

The other three Seraphim looked at each other worriedly, then Lailah took Mikleo's arm, offering only gentleness, trying her best not to draw that same panic out of him that they'd all seen moments before. "Maybe you ought to make another pact, and we can sneak you out in the morning. I never imagined they would blame a Seraph for the weather. I'm so sorry."

"What did they do to you." Edna wasn't asking a question, rather demanding an answer. She didn't meet his eyes.

He paused, and cast his eyes down again. "I told you. They attacked me. So I…" He choked up a little, wondering what kind of expression the other two were wearing, and what they'd think of him. What Sorey would think of him. It was one thing to fight humans on a battlefield, another thing entirely to be backed into a corner in the streets, lashing out so they'd keep their hands off of him. "I didn't want to die. So I fought back."

"Where?"

"...By the river…"

Edna pushed him away from the door, still not meeting his gaze, and opened it. "I'll take care of the rest. Get some sleep, Meebo."

"Edna! We shouldn't get more involved than we already are!" Lailah called after her. She flinched when met with Edna's glare.

"They did this to themselves by attacking Meebo." She spoke coldly, giving Mikleo chills. "I'm going to clean up the mess so he won't get blamed for their stupidity. That's all."

Lailah looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't. Zaveid left with Edna, clapping a hand on Mikleo's shoulder for a second on the way out. Their eyes met and lingered for just a moment.

"You were around before humans stopped seeing us, right?" Mikleo suddenly asked, his voice cutting the silence and startling the fire Seraph out of her thoughts, "What was it like?"

Lailah frowned, and he figured she must not be able to answer. "It wasn't easy." Was all she said before taking his hand in hers, muttering an abridged version of the pact for him. Light spun in his eyes and glittered in the air, and once it dissipated he took his hand back.

"I didn't agree to this," He told her, voice low, "I could just leave now, while it's dark."

"Sorry…" She said, bowing her head, "I'd still like the chance to catch up with you. You're almost one hundred years old, and I'd hoped we could make our meeting tonight special for you."

"So much for that," He scratched the back of his neck idly and turned aside, "I do need to recover, I think."

He'd traveled far with only the thin ring on his finger to serve as a vessel - nothing was more pure than a gift from Sorey, so it kept him safe, but it didn't snuff out the effects of Malevolence like dwelling inside of a person did. He worried that the burden was too much for it. It was already tarnished in spite of his best efforts to keep it clean.

"Try and sleep, Mikleo." Lailah's smile was more sincere, "We'll support you, whatever happens."

"I should meet the Shepherd before hiding away, right?" He massaged his wrist, wincing at pain he hadn't noticed a moment ago.

"You've met her," She said, sweetness coming off slightly forced, he could tell, because she was trying to keep him from sinking. She'd been doing that since Sorey fell asleep, every time things got difficult. "You remember Shino? That girl was raised by Oysh and the Sparrowfeathers. She's a very talented Shepherd."

His eyes narrowed at her, "Shino? But she must be… in her eighties now?"

Lailah nodded. "You can go speak with her first if you'd like. And don't worry, she hasn't needed to do any fighting for years. Now she just supports her squires."

He remembered the girl from his time with Rose, plucky and stubborn. He hadn't seen her for more than fifty years, but even then he'd never really gotten to know her all that well. As he retreated to her soul, a small space carved out for him amongst the designated spaces for the other Seraphim, he realized it had been very different for her, as a human. He felt memories flow in and out of him, brushing him calmly like the barest edges of waves lapping at the shore. A child who'd lost everything met someone who'd felt similarly, for different reasons, and admired his strength, envied him and aimed to cope as he had been.

He hadn't known just the kind of impact he'd left, but it brought him peace, if not sleep. His worries persisted as idle thoughts, wondering who those humans were, and thinking more about what they'd told him. About how the floods had killed seven people so far, and how their harvest was ruined and graves were disturbed. He knew they were right to be angry, and wished they'd aimed it elsewhere, because he knew he would have felt anger too. But because they'd taken it out on him, his power had erupted from the wet ground and pierced the lot of them as lances of ice. Because they'd blamed him, he watched their blood run slowly down the frigid spikes before the rain could wash it away. And it was all by his hand, a fearful reaction when he realized they wouldn't allow him to live through the experience.

Edna's presence returned not much later, wrapping him in familial comfort and shushing his thoughts. _It's okay now, Meebo_ , her spirit whispered as it tightened its grip on him, overwhelming and strong and solid, _It wasn't your fault_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mikleo was sleeping again, too emotionally distressed after cleaning off, so Sorey had decided to take care of him. However one was meant to take care of someone in this situation, he wasn't entirely sure, but he wanted nothing more than to try. The sunlight bore down on them and provided warmth while Sorey found thread to stitch the cuts he's made closed around the base of the wings. He was careful, doing his best not to let the water Seraph awaken, but inevitably he winced on occasion and Sorey would have to quietly brush fingers through his hair and speak lovingly until he lulled him back to sleep.

It almost unsettled him, just how easily Mikleo slept in daylight. The heat of noon warmed the scales, and over time the wings spread out, still very small but the webbed patterns were starting to emerge in a burst of blues, greens and grays. He also noticed, regrettably, that he'd broken the pattern near Mikleo's spine, the shining ivory chain didn't line up as it should have on one side. He wondered if that would right itself over time. He thought it had been pretty.

But no, he wasn't meant to think like that - the scales would be gone soon anyway. That's what he had to keep reminding himself. He couldn't get used to this. Well, he shouldn't.

Mikleo was always going to be beautiful to him. He wouldn't imagine the worst-case scenario, that Mikleo would become a dragon and lose himself. Even if he took on the body of a dragon, his mind would be enough to make him Mikleo, and that would be enough to make Sorey keep loving him. Enough to make Sorey keep trying to help him.

He calmly brushed his hands along the patterns in Mikleo's scales along his back, his spine, careful of the new wings in case they were tender. His sides. They were ticklish once, and the thought jumped into his mind to wake his friend that way, but it didn't work as planned. Mikleo's eyes opened slowly and he leaned into the touch instead, sighing. He thought he heard him say the word "itchy".

Just at the edges of his skin it did still seem dry. It flaked off when Sorey scratched at it for him, and he frowned. "That's why you have that salve." He observed, and Mikleo nodded and sat upright.

The water Seraph glanced over his shoulder and snapped his head back after seeing his wings, gaze planted downward into the earth.

"H-hey, it's alright. If they don't hurt too much, we can probably tie them down!" Sorey offered, reaching to touch the wiry frame, gingerly at first. There was no reaction, so he tugged a little, and Mikleo just looked at him.

"I don't feel them. Do you think I could just... Cu--"

"Don't." He corrected him, a little too firmly, "Sorry. But don't. You'll get better, and we'll worry about it then." It was hard to imagine what would happen to appendages that grew out due to the Malevolence once it was gone. It would be kind of gross if they shriveled up or shrank back into his skin, but he'd rather see it happen naturally than mutilating his friend further.

Mikleo lowered his head, resigned but upset, and Sorey chewed his lip awkwardly. How hard was it meant to be, to find the right things to say? He couldn't seem to get it right since waking up. "...Will you help me bind them?"

"Yeah," Sorey answered immediately, grabbing the former Shepherd's cloak and stripping it to rags. He was sad to see it go, but there were more important things to worry about. Mikleo's comfort, for example. He seemed upset though, staring in disbelief at the tattered garment, "It's fine. Can't be the Shepherd since I'm not human, anyway." He tried to laugh. Mikleo's brows furrowed.

The hardest part was positioning the wings against Mikleo's shoulders in a way that didn't stand out, but not bending them in ways they probably shouldn't bend. They were surprisingly flexible, but he still wanted to be careful not to break them, and even if Mikleo didn't agree with that sentiment, he only held his hair out of the way as Sorey tightly bound the cloak around him, banding it flat and making sure it wouldn't show much under the layers the water Seraph wore. The shoulders of his shirt would fit oddly, but other than that, he was able to bind them down successfully.

"That should do it," He said, patting Mikleo's back gently over the bindings, "Do you feel up to moving on, yet?"

Mikleo nodded, solemn. This wasn't fair. He wanted to do right by him, somehow. His chest ached while Mikleo pulled his black undershirt on, but instead of wearing the white and blue overshirt he folded it and packed it away. Sorey worried it was because it hurt, and his friend smiled at him, "It's okay. I just don't want to wear too many layers."

He hoped that was all the problem was. He nodded, but it didn't seem right to comment on his doubts.

"We'll make it to town before nightfall," Mikleo pulled his gloves on and adjusted his hair while speaking, "I don't think they'll take us, but I can ferry us both across the water myself if they don't, so it won't be an issue."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Sorey… Humans aren't always very fond of us. Not around here, anyway."

That didn't make any sense to him, a chill crawled across his skin, "But I thought… I mean, if they could see you, and they decorated your room at the inn so nice…"

"Offerings, I think," Mikleo shrugged, as though it wasn't of any consequence, "I prefer to be feared than hated, which is why I stayed there."

"This isn't how it was meant to be…" Sorey lowered his head, hugging his sides. Everything was all wrong.

"Sorey, no, it's not like this everywhere," Mikleo reached over and cupped his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "This stretch of land isn't the same as it is in Glenwood, or plenty of other places in the world. It's okay, I promise."

He remained unconvinced, even though he knew Mikleo wouldn't lie about that sort of thing. He tried to smile.

"I'll show you Lohgrin," the elder Seraph told him, letting go of his face, "In all the world, it had the most amazing changes. They've rebuilt the tower and expanded, and the humans and Seraphim live side-by-side, as we did."

The news didn't distract him as well as he knew his friend wanted, but he reached out to hug him close anyway. It couldn't be Mikleo's fault that certain parts of the world were still divided, right? They ought to press on, get out of this area. "We'll find the others first. Maybe we can go to Lohgrin after that."

He felt Mikleo pause and pulled back, finding worry on his face - it was a lot harder to tell with the scales. "I'll need to take one detour. Alone. Will you be okay, once we reach Glenwood again?" He nodded without hesitation, and Mikleo continued, "I won't be long."

"Where will you go?"

"To see Edna and her brother," Mikleo explained. Sorey only wondered why Edna wouldn't be with the others, but it's been so long, Mikleo probably knew best. There was a short pause then, in which Mikleo leaned over to steal a kiss from Sorey like he wanted to reassure him, tell him everything would be okay. Sorey chose to trust him, and they moved on.

 

 

 

Mikleo was never so gentle in his memories.

They'd kiss and he'd bite, thinking it was so funny and cute when Sorey flinched. Mikleo was the smaller, more fragile of the two of them, and Sorey would always treasure him and treat him gently, and then the mischievous water Seraph would cover him in bites and scratches and he'd play so rough as if he just wanted to remind Sorey that he wasn't made of glass. That he wouldn't break.

Ice cracked under Sorey's fingers and he kissed the cold scales underneath.

"Careful. I need to keep this up for a few more days," Mikleo chided him gently, a gloved hand taking Sorey's and holding it.

"How long will the trip be?"

A few hours in a port town had tangled Mikleo's perfect, soft hair in a way that only breezes off the ocean could. He'd conned their way onto a large boat to 'protect' it, and it had been so interesting to watch him work words into his favor in ways Sorey never could. It started out with a denial, insistence that Seraphim were bad, and Mikleo somehow turned it around, pointing out how a Seraph's protection would certainly benefit them, that there were storms on the water. He'd convinced them by promising not to tell anyone they were smugglers; their response had been a gruff acceptance, but they still weren't happy about it. Still, Sorey was impressed.

His illusion crept over the cracks again and sealed his scales beneath while he squeezed Sorey's hand, "Well, this vessel uses wind, so I can't accelerate it myself. Two and a half days?"

"So if I pick wind, we'll go faster?"

"Idiot, don't choose your element based on that," Mikleo scolded him with a soft chuckle, "I can still help push it along, just not quite as fast. So it could be less time, so long as everyone behaves."

Sorey laughed, "I can't believe you."

"Oh, come on. I would have done that a thousand years ago in a heartbeat."

"Blackmail?"

"Sure. If they could've seen me, I would have done it," He looked smug. Sorey liked that expression on him more than he'd like to admit. "Besides, these are smugglers. They want a seraph to protect them, whether they trust us or not. Better to stay on our good side."

They weren't given rooms to sleep in, but that was fine. They stayed on deck, watching the waves off of the rudder as it thudded into place. Sometimes, he could tell Mikleo was intentionally messing with them, but in such a subtle way that they couldn't have evidence to blame him. Since they were smugglers, Sorey didn't point it out and just allowed his friend enjoy himself how he pleased.

The sun was setting and it was getting cold. Mikleo hugged around Sorey's waist with one arm and drew him closer to share body heat. Under his clothes, there was no ice, and he was warm.

"Did you ever write your book?"

Mikleo paused. "Yeah," He said in a low voice, "I wrote a few. I only tried publishing one, but the others are stored for you in Elysia."

"Oh," Sorey looked down at his knees, confused and trying to remember any changes in the house, "I guess I was too eager to find you. I didn't see them."

"That's a shame. I reprinted each of them a little over a century ago, so they ought to be in one piece…"

"I mean, I barely looked. I'll get a better look around next time," He promised, and Mikleo breathed out a short, bitter laugh.

"It's alright. It's nothing important, after all." Mikleo's heartbeat raced and Sorey barely felt it under the cold of his skin, but he knew all the same and waited for his friend to explain himself, "I wrote them to give you memories. So they're useless."

Sorey watched his friend as he released him and stood, awkwardly and possibly embarrassed. There was obviously something to it, something he was hiding, and Sorey would ask but he felt wrong about it, like drawing attention to it would hurt him. The orange glow from the sky caught his eyes as he turned around, leaning against the railing at the stern.

"...Do you really remember everything, Sorey?"

"I think so," he answered quickly, maybe too quickly, "at first I wasn't sure, but after being up for a while, I don't feel anything is missing."

Mikleo frowned and turned again, watching the water and leaning against the rail. He looked bored, but Sorey knew better, "I see. I wonder why that is?"

"Lucky, I guess."

"Not likely."

"Hence the 'luck' part of it," He tried to lighten the mood. It worked; Mikleo cracked a smile and a stream of water climbed over the rail and doused Sorey's face. Instead of getting annoyed, he was glad. Glad because he could still make his friend happy. He laughed and Mikleo watched him, still wearing that small grin.

They lapsed into silence until the sun disappeared, Sorey joining him at the rail. Small waves lapped at the ship noisily and after Sorey shivered once, Mikleo mercifully dried him off, then held him close with one arm. His kisses were cold, because of the ice. "What do you miss the most?" He suddenly asked, and Sorey paused to think.

There were things he missed because he just hadn't done them in a while, but he didn't feel like those would count unless he couldn't do them anymore now that he wasn't human. He missed things like the quiet, unassuming intimacy of their youth, before they'd grown more confident in their travels. He missed his feather collection. He missed the feeling that spread from his heart to his fingertips upon every new, incredible discovery.

"I miss the armatus," He said suddenly, without giving it a lot of thought. Realistically, he could do it again if he made a pact with Lailah and her new Shepherd, but that wasn't quite what he'd intended, "Just with you, though."

Mikleo smiled and fiddled with his hair, windblown and curled, and he released the band holding it back. Sorey watched with a sort of admiration as the curly mess of silver cascaded over his friend's shoulders. "I used to miss that a lot, too."

He reached for it, fingertips dipping into coarse moonlit waves and grasping them, ever so gently turning Mikleo to face him. They didn't have the armatus, but they did have kisses to share, their bodies could still fit together in other ways. Maybe letting his hair down wasn't meant to say 'come hither', but the gesture worked either way. They laughed together for a moment, foreheads pressed together as Sorey kept him close by his fingers tangled in hair.

"We don't have privacy here," Mikleo reminded him, his eyes uncovered and sharpened. It gave his smile a dangerous edge that didn't belong.

Sorey kissed him again, "You _invented_  the invisibility illusion. Well, probably."

"I suppose I did," Mikleo agreed with a kind, warm laughter. Thin sheets of water spun around them, moonlight reflecting as he wanted it to, erasing their presence. Not that anyone else was around at the time, a skeleton crew working at the bow while the others slept.

Sorey couldn't help it, and who could blame him? Mikleo was stunning, and he was surrounded by water and right at home and he was perfect, ice cracking under Sorey's fingers, he couldn't even stop himself.

Light was warped by the water and the colors of his scales showed just a bit brighter.

"Don't you think there's less Malevolence now?" Sorey asked, pressing kisses to his friend's jaw between words, "I mean, I can still pick up on it, but not as easily."

"It can fluctuate, at times," Mikleo tilted his head, allowing Sorey better access to his neck, "Being surrounded by water probably helps."

"That's really amazing." He meant that. Mikleo had always been amazing, and worked his hardest no matter what.

"Not really," He wasn't modest even if he pretended to be at times, but Sorey couldn't read him all that well at the moment. Maybe he was imagining it.

He peeled off Mikleo's shirt and stepped around him to check on the injuries, but there'd been little change since morning. They were healing, but the wings were getting a more proper shape, elongated instead of batlike, and still flexible enough to be hidden. He was sure the webs of colors emerging were all a trick of the light, but if they were real they promised to be beautiful. He couldn't even help it, he traced along a ribbon of color along the edge and smiled. Most of them looked nacreous, the tips were Mikleo's favorite shade of blue, and Sorey loved how they looked.

The broken pattern in the eye shaped chain had healed into place, mostly, and hadn't righted itself, and it took effort not to feel guilty about it. They wouldn't stay that way, because they'd heal Mikleo and the broken pattern probably won't exist. Maybe scars would, though, and he feels his guilt there is a little more justified, since he'd been the one tugging those wings out so carelessly.

"Are you undressing me to play doctor?" Mikleo's voice shook in an odd but humored way.

"Oops," He laughed, hugging his arms around his friend and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck through the mess of his hair, "It's easy to get distracted. You're really pretty!"

"You're such a poet," Mikleo responded dryly. He wasn't annoyed, not really, and Sorey knew that and laughed again, tickling his friends sides as he turned him around.

Maybe it was strange, to be so attracted to those wings, those teeth and claws Mikleo was so careful with. Maybe it was a mistake to grow to enjoy them, but he wanted Mikleo to enjoy them just as much, in his own way.

By morning, those wings were harder to conceal under clothes.

By landfall, Mikleo concealed them miserably with water and had to alter his shirt further, opening the back.

Sorey found them lovely, but it didn't seem right to say anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They parted midday after they'd reached shore. Mikleo had taken a shortcut, and Sorey wanted to travel through Elysia on his way to see the others, so it was the most pragmatic choice, even if he woke the next morning wondering if Sorey's return had all been a dream. But no, he was back in Glenwood. He'd never return to Glenwood for less than Sorey.

Because without Sorey, he'd never have the courage to face the others again. He wouldn't ever have the chance to look up at the grand statue of Alisha in Ladylake and admit he'd failed her, or visit Rose's grave and tell her and the constant winds of those hills how far he'd fallen in the years they'd been gone. He'd never have the ability to face down Edna's wrath.

She certainly had the right to be angry, as he recalled. He may have started to turn into a dragon, but he was nothing in the face of that girl's fury.

He'd once counted her as his closest living, wakeful friend. He may have been close to the others, but their massive ages intimidated him even after half a millennium, and even now. They always seemed more distantly friendly, but somehow it was Edna who'd made him feel right at home, always helped him warm up to the others. Without her it always felt stiff and strange. It had taken him far too long to realize that her picking on him was actually a kindness in its own way, meant to be friendly rather than to genuinely anger him.

She had little tolerance for him after what had happened years ago, those weeks he'd spent wrapped in a drake's skin and when he'd emerged half-formed and scaly even though they'd all assumed they'd saved him. She'd prodded at him, her helpful comments barbed as she'd encouraged him to keep purifying himself, and he knew that the day he'd given up on himself, she was inconsolable. She hid it well, but he knew.

Even then, she locked him out. She had to have known when he'd arrived on Glenwood, earth Seraphim were just like that, aware of their landmass right up to where the waters cut through it.

The sunlight felt heavy on his wings and unhidden scales, but in an enjoyable way. He'd always taken longer to warm before. He followed the rivers, traveling faster by water. As the mountain came into view his hands were shaking and his knees were weak, and the land rejected him. Not in any real way, but every footfall felt more like sinking into thin mud, every step closer that mud seemed deeper, tugging at his ankles and slowing him. Every step he took, his wings flapped to steady his movements and he winced at how much it hurt, but he needed to continue on. If there was any mud actually there, he could fight back and easily get out of it, but this wasn't real.

He knew exactly why this was happening. Her domain stretched over the mountain and was meant to keep him out. Years ago it could have succeeded.

_Such mighty waves she stirs._

His chest tightened and he trudged on, catching a few snags and developing a limp after a while. The illusions became true about halfway up, rockslides beating down the path and blocking him, sometimes outright trying to harm him. Maybe not kill him, though. He would have turned back, if he felt that threatened.

Some of these obstacles weren't even worth fighting off, and he just allowed them to barrel right into him. He healed the worst of the injuries and continued on, his clothes worn and filthy with sweat and dirt. But he was almost there, he could see the grave and the dried-out hydrangeas that he'd planted with her centuries ago. They were only just now starting to dry out, so she'd obviously tended to them in his absence. They didn't grow naturally around there.

He'd liked them. She had too, if he remembered right - he'd commented that they reminded him of all the colorful umbrellas along the streets in Pendrago, and she thought her brother would have liked them. She hardly spoke of her brother those days. He had to imagine she never spoke of him anymore.

Her resentment was clear in her resistance to meet him now. The side of the mountain crumbled away before him, the path irreparably broken. He paused, took a few deep, stifling and painful breaths, and conjured waters to ice it over so he could cross, then changed his mind, waters eating away at the ground and forming a pliable but thick mud, forming it into shape to repair the path and freezing around the edges. He wasn't sure it would hold, but it was a gesture rather than a permanent solution. The earth quaked angrily under him, but at that point it accepted him and his steps were just a bit easier as he reached the summit.

A tattered umbrella blocked his view of her. Holes had been patched with various scraps that didn't match, and between the toes of her oversized boots, tiny dark spots decorated the ground. He might have missed them if he held any other type of element.

_Give up. This is no place for you._

"You know what I always liked about you, Meebo?"

"Calling me that annoyed me?" He offered, lighter than her tone to try and see if he couldn't at least start to smooth things over.

"You were never too big to ask for help."

He walked closer and she stepped back.

"You started to turn and we tried to help you," she continued, still hiding behind her umbrella, "You had a chance. Then you left, and I had to accept that I'd lose more of my family to the same thing."

He covered his mouth with his hand and looked away, fighting a bitter sting in his chest. He felt the Malevolence pulse oddly, receding just a bit. She finally raised her umbrella to prop it up on her shoulder, and her eyes looked deceptively dry and her face was emotionless and still, in the same way it had always been years ago. She missed a spot, still damp near her nose.

"I never thought--"

"That's true. You stopped thinking right after all your favorite humans died off. And now Sorey is the reason you're back." He froze up, because he'd never heard any of this, but it seemed true. He'd never quite gotten numb to goodbyes, and refused to grow close to anyone new over the years. "Poor Meebo, all alone in self-imposed exile. How pitiful," her scalding review of him continued.

"Edna."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's a few hundred years late," her eyes narrowed, "but you've always been crappy at owning up to mistakes, haven't you? Guess I'll have to accept it. I won't be getting better out of you."

His jaw tightened, because he wasn't sure how else to mend this over. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he wouldn't have a chance to do it like this. "Years ago, I promised to fix that for you."

She spun the umbrella on her shoulder and turned her face away from him, "Yes, well, as you can see, I took care of it myself."

"I'll save the framework," He offered, walking closer to her and holding out his hand, "would you mind if I remade it in blue?"

Their eyes locked and held for a few seconds, her face expressionless until she ever so delicately placed the umbrella in his glove.

"You've barely changed."

"You should have seen me last week," he cracked a bitter smile.

He spent a few hours repurposing the long pieces of his capes, making them into umbrella panels and fitting them onto the old wire frame. They scarcely spoke in that time. He caught her almost-smiling once.

 

 

Something prodding at his side woke him the next day.

"You always keep ladies waiting," Edna mused dryly, "But I don't recall you ever sleeping in so late."

He sat up, conjuring water over his body and cleansing himself, then his clothes. The soft pearly color of the scales covered him a bit more than he'd thought, but his fingers seem almost dipped in blue paint, comparatively. Edna had helped him file the claws down and they weren't growing back yet. "Where's my stuff?"

She handed him his bag and twirled her umbrella while she watched him curiously. He took out his knife, and she frowned. "Does that grow back often?"

"Sometimes," He answered, sliding his knife along the insides of his fingers and peeling the thin flesh away messily, thin trails of blood opening up and trickling over his hands. The first time he'd had to do this he'd cried from pain, and now he just flinched as the knife cut unexpected parts of his fingers from clumsiness, "You knew?"

"You had scars." She squatted alongside him and the ground glowed gently, sealing his new injuries shut. "Is that why you never had your ring fixed?"

He laughed softly, wincing because he'd missed a spot and as the webbing between his fingers fell it tore at his skin, more than he was used to. It bothered him that he'd gotten so used to doing that. "I would have asked you, but I knew it wasn't worth a lot. I thought you'd say it was a waste of time."

The face she was making at his mutilating himself softened, just a little, "I can't decide," she started, "if it's me you don't understand, or women in general."

"Just you," He beamed up at her innocently, "I'm still not convinced you're a woman."

She calmly folded her umbrella, the blue panels a lot stiffer than the yellow, so it was slightly more difficult, and jabbed him in the side with the handle once the knife wasn't in use. He couldn't help but laugh a little, but she then held out her hand. He glanced from her hand to her face and she frowned at him again, "The ring. I'll fix it."

"Are you sure? It's really corrupted by now." With his hand that was free of blood, he fished the ring out of his belongings, both shattered halves of it.

"I've still got the pact with Lailah. I can purify it." She took it and crushed the pieces together in her hand. Her fist glowed.

_It's not going to fix you. It won't fix anything._

He continued cutting the webbing from his fingers, trying to be swift so it wouldn't hurt so much and he wouldn't keep Edna waiting too long. It always hurt him, but Edna's healing did help more than his own did. Or maybe he was imagining that.

Once he'd finished, he imperfectly sealed up the last of the thin cuts and stood. The scar tissue delayed it from growing back quickly, or at least it seemed that way. She tossed the ring at him once he was finished with that, purified and polished to a shine, and most importantly it was whole again.

"You should get him to give you a new one," She reopened her umbrella to use it as a parasol and block the sunlight, "Maybe one that's actually worth something. With a big, shiny rock."

"See, that's what I was expecting you to say if I asked," He flashed an amused look and she rolled her eyes, "Thank you, Edna."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get a move on." She began walking without him, "You water types are all so sentimental."

"I am not," He argued, simply for the sake of arguing, and kept up with her steps.

She peered at him from under her umbrella, silent for a good measure of their hike down the mountain, "Your boyfriend is waiting ahead," She told him, "Before we get to him and you start lying to make him feel better, I want to ask you something."

"I don't lie to him," Mikleo frowned. He couldn't deny a few omissions had been made here and there, but he didn't lie to Sorey, he never did. That statement seemed to please her, just a little.

"Don't lie to me either, then," She looked at him squarely, her posture stiffer than usual, "When my brother was going through this, he started hearing them. The dragons. He said it was the point of no return, though I'm not sure how he knew."

"Are you asking if I--"

"Yes. Can you hear them?"

"Of course not," He folded his arms, defiant.

_Foolish, foolish Waters, to deny me is to deny what you were meant to be._

Her mouth quirked, like she was trying to figure out if he was being honest and just couldn't tell.

_She's right, you know. There is no return for you. You are but your own larval stage._

"I'm not even sure I can remember what a dragon sounds like," He started walking again, but she hesitated. "Did he say what he heard?"

She waited, then frowned and fell into step, "Garbled roaring, he said. So loud he thought he'd lose his hearing"

_She lies. She lies to protect you._

He already knew that.


	3. Boiling Point

Dealing with humans was never easy. Oh, there were perfectly lovely humans out there! Some of her favorite people she'd ever met were human, some of those she carried dearest in her heart were definitely human. Born and died human, only a few returned and even fewer remembered her after such an event.

Lailah was used to dealing with humans, that's all. Her dear, impressionable friend Mikleo was, sadly, not.

Her skirts fluttered about her as she helped him pick up his books. They were a scattered mess on the floor, and he was too stunned to pick them up. Undoubtedly, he'd get to it eventually, but she knew better than to wait it out. She needed to let him think for a little while, then she'd offer him what comfort she could and maybe some distractions. Or change the topic entirely. She'd learned a lot about dealing with Mikleo, too.

His books all replaced on the shelves, she helped him back to his feet and settled him at his desk. He mumbled an apology.

"It's alright," she told him. It wasn't his fault. People could be like that, irrational and quick-tempered. It was a very different experience from dealing with Seraphim, who lived long and learned patience in a different way. It was still a shame that the people around him had such little respect for his work, to try and sabotage him like that. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, Lailah." If she had to be honest, his temper wasn't all that different from a human's. He was still rather young, though humans already started treating him as old. "You picked a hell of a time to visit."

"I had someone who wanted to meet you," She said, aiming for that distraction angle. He looked at her curiously.

"I'm sure I'll be busy today," He finally answered, looking over his disorderly shelves. Well, she couldn't really help him with that; the last time she'd tried he'd chased her out. "We usually meet in the spring."

"And you usually complain about it." She tilted her head and smiled, and he frowned at her.

"Do not." He turned away, to an open tome on his desk. He flipped through pages and began writing. "Maybe I can spare some time tomorrow."

She leaned back against the corner of the desk and watched him write for a few minutes. "Alisha would be pleased that you work so hard. But she would want you to take a break." He shook his head and continued writing. She reached out to him and tucked his hair behind his ear.

"Until this is settled, I'm not sure I can do much of anything she'd hoped for."

"That's not true!" Lailah raised her voice a little, then clenched her fists, determined. "You've been instrumental to--"

"I know, I know," Mikleo sighed, "A Diphda has the throne again. The country isn't at war. It's just… been hard to _keep_ it that way."

There was a lull and she took his right hand, since it wasn't busy, smiling kindly at him, "When things got to be too much for her, she took breaks. She never would have put all this pressure on you intentionally. Come with me, won't you?"

He took his hand back and spun his ring around his finger, as he did when he was considering his options, "Just for a few hours?"

"Just to the inn for dinner," she promised. She might or might not have been thinking of convincing him to let her trim his hair, too, but it was cute, the extra couple of inches curling in on his cheeks.

"Someone who wants to meet me, right? Did you find either of them?"

Lailah paused, and looked down at the floor, "No. No, I don't think they're coming back, Mikleo. It's been long enough that someone would have found them."

With the heel of his hand, Mikleo rubbed his eye and pushed his chair back, but otherwise made no move to join her. They both knew what he really wanted. Alisha and Rose. He wanted them to come back as Seraphim. Before, she'd told him that it took a few years sometimes, mostly to placate him but it was also true.

He whispered, "Then what chance does he have?"

She was calm as she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, then took it back to place it over her heart, "Truthfully, I doubt Rose or Alisha really wanted to come back. They lived their lives completely, and happily."

"They sacrificed decades of their lives to this Shepherd business, and they'll never get that back," he pointed out, standing and folding his arms, "And Sorey was seventeen, and he's already given more than a century to it."

She hesitated, wary, "Do you regret it?"

"...No, not really."

"I know he doesn't, either." It was a rule to never use the past tense when speaking of Sorey to Mikleo. It upset him, made him irrationally angry and he'd withdraw all over again. At least while he had the ear of the council, he was preoccupied with other things. "His sacrifice will bring him back."

"Is there a way to make sure it will happen?"

He watched her carefully and oh, she hesitated a moment too long and he definitely noticed! She smiled and tried to cover it up, "My, that's strange! You're covered in centipedes!"

He suddenly looked exhausted. Success!

"Now let's get you outside!" She grabbed his hands again and tugged him out of his room, out of the old Diphda Manor that Alisha had willed to him and back to the streets. This section of town was freshly regrouted, tiny gardens of rosemary decorating corners that hadn't quite fit the layout, branches feeding out into the street.

"Who am I meeting, exactly?" He squinted and held his hand over his eyes. It wasn't even that bright out. He must've been locked away for days, again.

"Well, the others are here too," she started, "and our new Shepherd is so excited about meeting you." Mikleo froze in place, and Lailah grabbed his hand again to keep him moving, still talking, "She's a lovely person. Your book is a treasure she keeps talking about, so we thought it would be a good motivator if she met you."

"You're not trying to--"

"No, I won't bring you back into this," She lowered her head, taking the first step through the arches to the lower quarter (the doors long since removed by Alisha's command), "I simply wanted the two of you to meet. You'll like her."

As it turned out, he did like her. She was a starry-eyed romantic who read his book cover-to-cover so many times the spine wore out, and she kept her own notes in the margins of every page. He liked her a lot; he gave her a new copy of the book with a personalized message and kept correspondence with her through letters until she was killed by hellions just half a year later.

 

* * *

  
  


Sorey's first stop had been Elysia. He intended to breeze through quickly, grab some things and get out (Mikleo's books especially), but he spent a few hours greeting and assuring the Elysians he recognized - there were a few new ones - that he was okay. He told them that his adventures weren't quite over yet. They understood.

The changing landscape was something he could finally pay attention to. Elysia was more open, the winding forest path worn into the dirt from heavier use. After exiting the forest, the way to Ladylake was paved. The cobbled path continued beyond the entrance and around, possibly to the newly-emptied Camlann. He needed to remember to ask what had happened there. He needed to ask so many questions.

He was supposed to meet Mikleo at the Tintagel ruins, but instead he rushed his way to Rayfalke Spiritcrest. It was on the way, and the pathway followed along to it. He noticed some signs that called it The Shepherd's Trail and felt suddenly bashful, wondering who was to blame for it (and really, he probably knew). If he had to guess, it probably passed through Marlind, and he decided that after the few days they'd already spent apart, they could spend a night there. Mikleo would need to hide his wings, but it was okay! It would all be okay.

In case something important was going on up there, he stayed near the bottom of the trail, reading a plaque about what had happened on the mountain one thousand years ago. It seemed exaggerated with a millennium's worth of a gap, but his memories all matched up just fine.

It was nearly midday when he caught a glimpse of wings and an umbrella in the distance, and his heart fluttered happily. He couldn't help it; he knew Mikleo and Edna would be able to patch things up, it was just nice to see the _evidence_ of it. The shape and color of that umbrella told him more than words ever could. Much more than Edna's bland stare would ever tell him. Once they were close enough, Sorey rushed up to met them and threw his arms around Mikleo tight, his friend staggering back with a short laugh, catching Sorey's weight rather easily.

He grinned up at him brightly, proud to see that Mikleo smiled back at him. "How'd it go?" He didn't have to ask, but he wanted to.

"So well, Meebo and I have decided to get married. I gave him a ring and everything."

Obviously Edna was being sarcastic, so Sorey played along, "That's great! I'm so happy for you!"

"Will both of you shut up?" Mikleo groaned, and Sorey took his hands and noticed that there really was a ring on one of them. He twisted it around Mikleo's finger, beaming and waiting to hear more about it. "She fixed it for me," he explained with a blush on his cheeks, barely visible under his scales, "Of course I still had it."

Sorey leaned in to kiss him and Edna made a gagging noise.

"Where are the others?" Sorey asked her once he'd gotten that kiss, barely enough to tide him over until they'd have privacy later.

"They went ahead to Tintagel," She said, spinning her umbrella. "I didn't want to deal with either of you, so I stayed behind. You're so thoughtless, dragging me back into your mess, Meebo."

"You're so rude, Meebo," Sorey added and Mikleo groaned again. Sorey's arms stayed wrapped around his waist and he dipped forward, nuzzling his face against Mikleo's neck and feeling that those scales around his neck were warm. They glistened like pearls at his throat.

"Alright, alright, let's get going," he finally said, giving Sorey a gentle shove off of him (but taking his hand anyway, lessening any harshness the gesture might have carried).

"Right. Onwards down the Shepherd's Path." Edna rolled her eyes.

"Trail," Sorey corrected her.

"That's just how much I care."

  


Marlind's ancient forest had been selectively pruned. The ancient tree in the center had died; only its stump, now painted and made a small stage, was left as a reminder of it. Trees around the town had been trained into shapes, creating shaded pathways through the town. Mikleo didn't come inside; it was far too difficult to hide his wings, but he'd said he would join them once it was dark.

Edna walked him through town, complaining that she had to play tour guide the whole time, but willingly pointing out changes that were major enough to warrant interest. The museum was still there. A pretty picture of Lailah was displayed in one of the halls, marked as a gift from the Normin. Sorey wondered how they gripped brushes, but Edna just complained more instead of explaining it. Children's laughter gave him chills, and Sorey decided they'd seen enough of the museum for now. It just wasn't the same to see all these things without Mikleo.

Once they exited, the small stage was occupied by a juggler entertaining a small crowd, and daylight still held, though it was far lower in the sky. The juggler lit flaming torches and the crowd cheered heartily. Sorey almost wanted to watch - oh, he _was_ watching, staring and dazzled.

Other performers danced about in colorful costumes, sequined to look like scales, looking more like a fish than a dragon, but the illusion was enough for the children in the crowd. They danced in circles around the stump, arms outstretched so their garments floated behind them like they were gliding on pretty wings. By their posture, they were meant to be menacing the juggler in the center, who added another flaming baton to his collection.

"It's called 'The Devastation of Gododdin'," Edna told him, prodding him gently in the side with her umbrella, "The song. It's usually a much bigger performance."

He thought the musician was a separate act and indeed had barely noticed him. The song was fast, but didn't sound quite like devastation. "What happened to Gododdin?" He asked, still entranced.

"Duh." She sighed.

Dragons, then. He took careful note of the costumes; one dragon was black and orange, and the other was a vibrant red with green marks on the wings. They didn't look familiar, but he supposed they wouldn't. "When?"

"Two hundred years."

The menacing actors each stole one of the lit batons, miming as though they were breathing fire. Sorey felt guilty and relieved at the same time, knowing that everyone he'd known in Gododdin was dead long before any sort of devastating events. He didn't have much time to dwell on it though, startled when one of the actors' capes caught flame. Judging by their reactions, it was a slip-up, but the children didn't know and cheered along, and the musician improvised and played louder and faster.

Edna wore a sadistic smile, "Rehearsals aren't going well. Come on. We need a room at the inn reserved." He didn't question it but fell in step behind her. They found a room with two beds and a large, useful window Sorey assumed Mikleo would enter through. He didn't like the idea of making him do something like that. Edna seemed unbothered, kicking off her boots beside the bed and sitting down with a huff.

This room wasn't as decorated as the room he and Mikleo had stayed in before; the most decoration it had, in fact, was a tapestry hanging on the wall over his bed. It featured a long, light blue line down the middle of a landscape and a slumbering angelic figure near the bottom, then patterns around the edges.

"If you and Meebo act all gross tonight, I'm getting my own room," Edna grabbed his attention. She looked really irritable. "So, tell me, are you going to be gross?"

"Eh… What's gross?" Sorey stared at her curiously, "C'mon, I have enough sense not to do those things in front of people!"

"I seem to recall differently," she said harshly, "You two were always making eyes at each other and acting like lovesick puppies when you thought we were asleep."

Sorey opened his mouth to argue, since they'd never taken it so far, but then he supposed she was putting a ban on things like kissing, too. He thought that would be pretty harmless… He scratched his cheek and nodded, "Alright, I'll tone it down…"

She stared, incredulity on her face (though it was hard to tell). "Wouldn't it be better if you just admitted you can't keep your hands to yourself, so that I could give you two privacy?"

He shook his head. "I like spending time with you!"

"You ought to use past tense, you know," she pointed out, untying her ribbon, "A lot can change in a thousand years."

Sorey tried not to show how much that stung. He took a deep breath and chose a book from the shelves - there were only three to choose from -  and quietly settled in to read for a while. At least a thousand years' change brought plenty of new things to learn about; he'd save Mikleo's books for while Mikleo was actually around, so that they could talk about them.

 

* * *

 

 

He watched from atop the gates for a while. He watched Edna and Sorey enter the inn, and opted not to join them. It was alright; he was never much for sleeping at inns. He used them while documenting ruins, but for storing his finds and his journals more than anything else. They weren't very welcoming. Beds weren't all that welcoming, over the years.

The gates weren't comfortable by any means, but he could stay there for a while, watching as Marlind's lamps were lit and hung from branches, as Sorey kept glancing out the window waiting for him.

His chest ached, but he couldn't stand to go in there. A strong domain warned him away, and though he could ignore it, he didn't. He never fought the Lords of the Land too hard. They were only following their ancient promises, he was the one who'd failed in his.

Malevolence was a complicated subject. He was corrupted, but seraphim couldn't be tainted on their own, could they? Some sort of outside force had to taint them, that's what he'd always believed. He'd only started to doubt it when purification kept failing.

Oh, it always seemed to work at first, but his soul blackened with Malevolence in shortened time, repeatedly. He never had hope, though, did he? Of course not. He would gaze off into the distance, stare at a beam of light and smile wistfully and pretend.

The wind rattled the forested city. Lanterns in the branches rocked gently, shadows eerily crawling about like long clawed fingers.

He waited longer, watching the window at the inn. Much as it pained him, it comforted him in a small way to know that Sorey was waiting too. He smiled in spite of himself.

Merchant stalls stood empty along the worn cobbled roads, and very few patrols wandered through the peaceful town. Lights indoors were snuffed out, one by one; Sorey was the last holdout, leaving one candle right by the cracked window. Mikleo yearned to join him, but knew he couldn't.

They would be back on the road in the morning, chasing down something he desperately needed to convince himself of. He knew Sorey believed that Mikleo would be saved. He was convinced the Malevolence was receding, but the scales grew ever more vibrant. From the corner of his eye he would catch the color in his wings and flinch. All day he'd done that. Sorey hadn't seemed to notice, but perhaps exploring the changes in the world was a much more important task - oh, and it _was,_ truly, Mikleo knew that. He knew to focus on other things, brighten his days and bury his pessimism, but it was harder while he was alone.

He rocked back and forth a few times. His head ached along with his chest, a very different ache that he couldn't explain away. He dreaded it.

Rather than take his own advice and seek distractions, he looked at his hands and considered what he'd look like as a dragon. Pearly scales weren't too common, he supposed. He'd seen enough dragons to know what to expect. Their bodies were often muscular and large, but he doubted he would be; he'd be smaller, and instead of glittering like jewels he'd shine like nacre. Maybe he'd keep his wits about himself long enough to have a few precious more years with Sorey.

 _Accept it_.

"Quiet," Mikleo answered. He hadn't answered in decades. The voice gave off a wave of delight, but didn't speak to him again.

They'd take the shortcut to Tintagel in the morning. Thanks to Edna's clever use of powers, they'd get to their destination quickly, and he prayed he would be rewarded with hope. He wanted to share in Sorey's optimism.

The wind swept through branches again, knocking a lantern down onto a merchant stall. Mikleo looked around, but saw no guards approaching. It would be ablaze before anyone noticed.

Cautiously, he jumped from the wall and hurried to snuff it out, but bales of straw used to hold up a display burst into a spitting flame before he made it to the lantern. He'd wanted to avoid this. The domain pressed on him with urgency to chase him out, and he pushed back. He'd leave in a moment.

He took the lantern in his hand and conjured water to extinguish the fire quickly, but steam and smoke rose into the branches anyway. He really hadn't wanted attention, but armed men shouted as they spotted it - and him - and he had to be gone in more of a hurry than he'd been to put the fire out. He shrouded himself, of course, but that couldn't hide his presence from the Lord of the Land.

He noted that as he climbed the wall again, his wings flapped at least twice, as though they steadied him, something they'd done while climbing Rayfalke Spiricrest as well. How silly. They weren't nearly big enough for that.

  


Neither Sorey nor Edna bid him a good morning when they rejoined him outside of the gates. There was chatter of a dragon landing near the market. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together, and Sorey didn't seem bothered as Mikleo had expected him to be for his absence that night. They walked through the forests behind Marlind quietly until out of earshot, and Mikleo released his wings from his shroud and stretched them out.

"You have more control over them," Edna observed, eyes narrow.

"Well, they're attached to me," Mikleo dismissed. She dropped the issue and smacked a boulder out of their way so they could tunnel through the cliffs and get to Tintagel faster.

Her powers had grown immensely; in the past, she could only do things like that at a cost to her own physical state. Now, she commanded the strength as easily as breathing. He imagined she wanted praise, so of course, he spent some time thinking of a way to word it so that he wouldn't be admitting he was really impressed - he failed to come up with anything, but he did try.

Ruins overgrown with ivy were spread throughout the forest. A small society had grown there a few centuries ago and blinked out during a forest fire (of natural causes. Storms? Mikleo couldn't remember). He and Sorey discussed it during the remainder of their trek and Edna ignored them, walking twenty paces in front of them the whole time.

Tintagel had overgrown, but as they rounded the old crumbling walls and trees they saw Lailah's vivid red skirts and Sorey called out to her, dashing forward in a blur. Mikleo was sure he saw her flinch when she saw them, but he couldn't definitively say it was because of his wings, each one now comparable to Edna's umbrella in size. As he drew closer, he saw her watery eyes.

"Oh, Mikleo…" She cooed gently, enveloping him into a tight hug. "Zaveid, Uno, and our Shepherd are inside exploring. I thought maybe you and Sorey might like--"

"Sorey is more than welcome to," he interrupted, "But I want to get this over with."

She pulled back and looked up at him, offering a hesitant nod. She smiled at Sorey and then Edna, brightly gesturing at the blue umbrella, but then ushering them inside as though they were about to get caught in a rainstorm.

Sorey was getting swept along, and Mikleo was glad for it; this would be difficult, as it always had been in the past, and Sorey would make it only harder. In the ruins he immediately started looking around at the various dragon carvings along the walls, puzzling out translations in as much of a hurry as he could.

Mikleo, though, he knew better. He, Edna and Lailah moved to an open space on the floor, quietly moving the elements as they needed; Edna fashioned a basin from stone, sealing it tight to hold water, which Mikleo filled it with, to the brim. He added ice. It was an oversight, last time. Lailah simply waited, staring after Sorey.

"You didn't tell him?"

"He wanted to find clues in this place," Mikleo explained lightly, not a single hint of his doubt in his voice. Edna didn't comment. "The people here worshipped dragons. It's not unthinkable that they had a deeper understanding of them, too."

Lailah hesitated, but nodded, "It's a reasonable thought."

"He won't like being left out of this part," Edna warned him, tapping him in the side with her umbrella handle.

Mikleo knew that, but it didn't make him like it any more.

"Please, talk to him," Lailah agreed, "I don't want it to surprise him." She waited for Mikleo to give a quiet assent and nodded herself, stepping away with Edna in another direction. Distant voices told him that they were rejoining their shepherd. He didn't know much about their current Shepherd. Sorey had mentioned him once or twice, but never said anything substantial about him. Knowing Sorey, he might've been a little tunnel-visioned when he'd first awakened. Kind of like now.

Sorey had an old, half-filled journal of Mikleo's open in his lap while he sat in front of the carvings. He had an inkwell and an old quill, and Mikleo recognized them as something he'd left behind in Elysia. He was surprised the ink hadn't dried out. Sorey smiled up at him and he sat beside him on the floor, looking up at what he was seeing and then at the paper, where he was making earnest translations that Mikleo had given up on ages ago.

It wasn't that he _couldn't_ do it, no, it just took too long, and he'd started to make Oysh uncomfortable, since his malevolence used to be a lot less controlled. It would flare outward whenever Mikleo would be too frustrated. Plus, he just wasn't finding anything useful. Sorey didn't seem to be yet, either.

"Some of the figures in the carvings look halfway between human and dragons," Sorey pointed out proudly, gesturing at a relief of a human-shaped being with flaming claws. "I thought I remembered seeing that. Things are still a little fuzzy, though. What's this word here?"

"It's a proper noun," Mikleo answered, "A place. I've seen it referenced before, as a prison, or maybe a zoo."

"It's pronounced… Titania, then?"

He nodded.

Sorey noted it down, "I don't think this'll help much, but it's still really fascinating," he admitted with a sheepish laugh.

Mikleo watched him, not wanting to interrupt, and remembering his own attempts at translations here. "I always wished that we'd had more time for this when we were younger." Not much of a confession, but he'd thought of it so many times. He'd revisited so many ruins to cover their tracks and fill in the blanks left by a hurried exit, when Rose was bored, or when the hellions proved too much of a threat or distraction. It was a far different time; there have been ages since that he'd tried so hard to recapture the magic of tracing history. It never worked without Sorey.

"We have time for it now," Sorey insisted, voice firm. The meaning in his words wasn't lost.

Mikleo leaned aside, resting his head against Sorey for just a few moments. He hadn't entirely given up on a future, but the idea of one was so hard to grasp. "Purification is hard for me," he started cautiously, not wanting to alarm Sorey more than he had to, "Because Lailah's element is smothered by mine, it takes more effort for her to use it on me. It's painful."

Sorey looked up from his notes curiously, "Painful how?"

"Like she's boiling me alive," Mikleo sighed. Sorey did his best to appear strong, but his eyes widened and his mouth gaped for just long enough to betray his feelings on the matter.

"That's… I don't…" They made only fleeting eye contact as Sorey puzzled his thoughts out, "So if I were to take a different element, something that would treat you kindly--"

"Stop that."

"But--"

"Sorey," He raised his voice sternly, "I'd like to think this is the last time we have to do this. So leave it be."

Sorey was reluctant to agree, but he did. He remained silent for a few minutes, trying and failing to return his attention to his translations.

"It's not really as bad as it seems. It hurts, but it's Lailah. It's safe."

"Could you at least be asleep for it?"

Mikleo didn't have the heart to tell him that in the past, the process had been so painful that he'd fallen unconscious, that he'd tried to sleep and it had been painful enough to wake him up first. At the very least, it had never been enough to hurt him.

Sorey seemed to read his mind. "The others can use purification through their pact with Lailah, right? So, if Zaveid did it…"

"Sorey." He stopped him by saying only his name, but it meant that they had tried it. They'd tried a great many things. A thousand years is a long time. They lapsed back into silence, broken a while later when Sorey rested his head against Mikleo's shoulder. Neither of them had to like this solution, but it felt like it would work. Malevolence in him had certainly dwindled down inside of him. "You don't have to watch."

"I do."

They both fell silent again. It lasted a little longer.

_Hardly a breath ago, you were figuring out your true form. Your mind is a silly place. Accept who you are. Find your voice and rule the sea and the skies! Enough of this turmoil inside of you!_

It sounded desperate, which gave him hope.

"Let's start," Mikleo announced, dusting himself off and walking to Lailah with stiff and determined steps. The weathered ruins had moss growing over most of the ground, muffling movement, and Lailah had already approached them. She smiled at him and offered her hands.

Sorey looked so nervous, hovering at his side as though he could hold him to help through this. "You okay?"

With a nod, Mikleo squeezed Lailah's hands and she closed her eyes, hiding an expression full of apologies and woe. From her hands to his, through his skin and bones and blood, heat began to spread. At first it felt wonderful, positively wonderful and warm, almost like basking in sunlight or huddling under blankets with Sorey, or warming up by a campfire. He watched her, her brows furrowing with determination and focus, and he knew she was easing into it for his sake. The first time she'd done it, she'd tried her best to get it over with quickly for him, not unlike ripping off a bandage. He didn't remember what happened after that, but she carried the regrets, so he couldn't argue with her decision to help him like this instead.

He'd never been able to stay conscious the whole time. As the heat rose and he felt it bubbling in his insides, he teetered and Sorey steadied him. He heard three voices arguing, but didn't make out what they were saying. His head felt like it was splitting open and he squeezed his eyes as tightly closed as he could. Something smacked at his hands; he'd been holding Lailah's too tightly, hurting her.

He fell forward and something seemed to burst forth, spilling from his aching mind and onto the floor of the ruins. It smelled foul, and he collapsed into it.

  


He woke hours later. Possibly days.

He found himself leaning heavily on Zaveid's shoulder, a shepherd's cloak haphazardly thrown over him to keep him warm. The current Shepherd stood with Sorey, Lailah and Edna by a wall, discussing translations, and Mikleo couldn't find his voice to interrupt. Within him, he felt the usual chill, comforting and deep. The Malevolence disappeared entirely. He was so foolish to entertain any doubts or feel as though Sorey might've been wrong about this. All they had to do was try, and it worked. The scales hadn't receded, but he knew better than to expect improvement overnight. It took ages to grow them, it would probably take ages for his skin to smooth back down.

He flexed his wings, and they felt a little stiff, either from disuse or just because they'd rot off soon. He was hopeful for the latter, disgusting as it was. Still, he dared to feel pleased with the outcome.

"You awake?" Zaveid asked. He looked more concerned than usual. That is, he looked concerned at all. Mikleo gave little more than a nod. "They were pretty worried. It was a little shocking, the way you went down. Eyes rolled back and bloody like that."

Mikleo looked up at him in alarm and pushed the cloak off of himself, looking for dressed injuries. Zaveid nudged him for attention, then prodded something on his forehead, gently. It felt bizarre.

Starting at his brow, it felt a little knobby, but not protruding until he felt higher, his skin thin and firm around the base of smooth horns, rising around three inches from his head at an angle. His hands began to tremble, and Zaveid patted his head.

"There's an answer. We'll find it." That's what the others were doing; they were looking for answers, chasing more of Sorey's ideas to try and help him.

He didn't sound all that hopeful. Mikleo let out a despairing wail that he would've been embarrassed by any other day, his wings curling around his form as if to hide him. He knew Sorey rushed to his side, but he didn't acknowledge him.

 _Foolish,_ the voice informed him. _Hoping for all the wrong things. Of course it could only end like this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you boil water to purify it right?  
> Same thing for seraphim, y/n??? ♥
> 
> My ideas for the next chapter are unfortunately very vague so I have no idea how it'll go, but at least I know how it'll end. Thanks for sticking with me on this crazy ride so far.


End file.
